Run In The Night
by Willow Edmond
Summary: Dean knew it wouldn't be easy, being a father to a nine year old boy he'd never met before, but he figured that being Neil's favorite wrestler would make things a lot easier. Funny how life never seems to work the way you want it. (Third story in Cinnamon series. Chasing the Moonlight / Dreamer of Pictures)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**

**Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

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><p><strong>Run in the Night<br>**_Part 1_

Dean's professional life was going good. More than good, one could say pretty good. Someone a bit more optimistic might of even said it was going _really _good. But, no matter how you wanted to put it, Dean Ambrose wasn't at all worried about his professional life. He had recently resigned his contract with the WWE and the money had gone up, which was nice. He wasn't going to give John Cena anything to worry about in the land of finances, but his checks were at the point where he no longer felt that if he gave them to Cena, John would wipe his ass with them, rather than go to the bother of taking them to the bank. Not that Dean was financially driven, that never had been his style, but it was nice to know he'd never have to worry about being able to pay the electric bill or buy beer.

His personal life? That was another matter. That was a case of great and suck at the same time. He was back in touch with Cinnamon, the girl who could be called his first love. While they had made no official commitment with each other, every chance they got to be together, they were having awesome sex. And if that wasn't enough, they were clicking together, like the old days, able to talk about everything and nothing. He also had a nine year old son with her, a surprise he hadn't know about until recently. Neil was the part that was causing the suck. Not that Neil was a bad kid, he actually seemed like a pretty good kid. He was well behaved without coming across like a suck up. He got excellent grades in school, no doubt because of his mother, but he didn't come across like a know-it-all. He loved professional wrestling, even had a ring in the backyard of the house he and his mother shared in West Virginia. So the problem wasn't the kid himself, the problem was Dean, and he knew it.

Neil hadn't known Dean was his father until recently either, although Dean suspected that if he'd gotten much older, he might have figured it out, especially if he decided to use the internet and did research on Dean. Neil was, by looks, a small Dean Ambrose. There were two big differences, he had his mother's rather vivid green eyes and her copper colored hair, and a few more subtle differences, the kid had the general appearance of a child who had a pretty happy life. But aside from that? Pretty much identical.

According to his mother, Neil had become mesmerized with Shield from their first appearance on Survivor Series, and had gravitated to Dean, as if part of him sensed there was a connection between them. Oddly though, when Cinnamon told Neil who his father was, which she did with Dean not there, as they both agreed would be best, the next time he saw Neil, the boy had been remarkably shy. It was the night of the day he learned, they had come to the Main event and Smackdown taping. The day before they had come to the Raw show and as they drove back to Cinnamon's place, Neil had asked Dean question about question, enthusiastic and eager to listen to everything Dean had to say. But that night, when they drove back, Neil had been very quiet and when they got back to Cinnamon's house, he went to bed without a word.

He probably should have discussed it with Cinnamon when she came out from tucking Neil in, and he really intended to, but instead he found himself wrapping his arms around her and kissing her and the next thing he knew it, they were in bed, having absolutely mind blowing sex, the stuff that other people brag about having, but rarely do. It wasn't until after their third go-'round, both of them lying in her queen sized bed, the sheets and blankets in a twisted heap on the floor, their bodies still wet with sweat and their hearts going into that slow down from racing together, that he even remembered Neil's silence.

"You told him, right?" he asked as she snuggled up to him her head on his chest.

"Yes," she said, "I told him."

"He was awful quiet tonight," Dean said, trying not to sound hurt, so Cinnamon would be 100% honest with him. and not try to spare his feelings. "Was he upset?"

"No," Cinnamon said, her voice firm. "He did think at first I was giving him bullspit, but he wasn't upset. And, I showed him some old pictures of you and me, so he had some proof."

"Okay," Dean said. "So, what happened once he realized?"

"He had a bunch of questions, a lot about why you and I didn't work out. He's got intuition, that boy does, because he said he noticed that you and I were getting along really well now, so what could have happened back then."

"What did you tell him?" Dean asked.

"I told him it was complicated. He wasn't happy with that explanation, but he accepted it." She propped herself up on an elbow and started running her fingers up and down his chest. "I'm not ready to tell him about you shooting my dog, even if it was at the worst, a mercy killing. He's smart, but I don't know if he'll understand that. Hell, I'll be honest, _I _don't completely understand it. I mean, my heart does, but my brain can't understand and explain it to anyone."

"Then why was he so quiet?" Dean asked. "The kid barely spoke, when yesterday we couldn't get him to shut up."

Cinnamon looked up and down his body, which caused a slight stirring, but at that point, he was too tired to let it be more than that. And, he knew she was only doing it to collect her thoughts before speaking. "I think he's scared now."

"What?" Dean was surprised at how fast and deep those words cut. "Scared of _me?"_

"No," Cinnamon said, shaking her head and bringing her gaze back to look at him. "Not of you, of himself, of everything. Before you were just his idol, which is no small thing, but still, he knew the score. He was shocked you came into his life, but he also was pretty sure you had better things to do than hang out with a kid. He was pretty sure you would walk out just as you walked in and he'd have this cool memory he could brag about to his friends. Now he knows there's a connection and now he's worried he won't measure up."

"Huh?" His brow furrowed. "Measure up? He's a _kid._"

"Yes," Cinnamon agreed. "And you're his idol. Think about it, Dean... you want him to like _you_, right?"

"I want him to love me," Dean admitted. "I mean, I know it's going to take some time, but I want him to love me like a kid loves his dad." _Like Leah loves Roman_, he thought, but didn't say.

"He wants _you_ to love _him_," Cinnamon said. "Like a Dad loves his son. Yes, I know, most parents fall in love with their kid the moment they're born, even before. But you didn't know about Neil until two days ago, and Neil's not a tiny baby who doesn't care for Chip whether you love him or not, as long as you diaper him, feed him, and hold him. Neil is young, but he's old enough that loving and being loved is important to him. He loves the idea of you being his father, but he doesn't want you to think he's... well, _lame__,_ for lack of a better word."

"I don't though," Dean said. "He seems pretty cool."

Cinnamon snuggled closer to him, so her elbow was resting against his armpit, which was a little weird when you thought about it, but there was also something touchingly intimate about it too. You really had to feel comfortable with someone to be willing to rub your elbow right up against one of the smelliest parts of their bodies. Dean showered quite regularly, so he knew he wasn't rank, but he _had_ wrestled in the ring earlier and then had a bout of sexual acrobatics with her just a bit ago, so he had been sweating, he might not be rank, but odds were he was a little on the ripe side. "He _is_ cool," she explained. "I know, I'm his mother, so I'm mad about him, but I see how he interacts with other people and he is cool. People like him, which reminds me of you."

"Me?" he snorted.

"Yes, _you_," she said, leaning over and kissing his chest. "You have a charisma, Mox. It draws people to you. People may love you or hate you, but they find it awful hard to ignore you. And more people like you than don't. If they don't, it's likely because they impose some type of standards on people that almost anyone would have trouble measuring up to. The type of people I like, the type of people _most_ people like? They like you."

"If you keep that up, I'm going to have to fuck you again," he commented, barely hearing her, more interested in what she was doing with her lips. Things below the waist were getting a little heated up with her touch. _Suddenly, I'm not so tired anymore._

"Oh, please, anything but that!" she teased back, kissing his chest again.

He shook his head, forcing himself to calm down and stop thinking with that part of him that never had more than one thought. This was serious. "What do I do to calm the kid down? Make him relax and talk to me?"

"Talk to him," Cinnamon said, leaning over to kiss him again, this time his nipple, the one he'd almost had cut off after a match with Jimmy Jacobs. That injury had hurt like a sonofabitch, no other way to put it, but Cinnamon's kiss was having an entirely different affect. "Get to know him, let him get to know you. You two are starting at ground zero with a hell of a disadvantage. He didn't grow up with you. You're his father, but you're a stranger. I know a lot of that lays on me, for not telling you but-"

"-We're not going to go into that," Dean said. "We agreed that given the circumstances, it is understandable that you didn't tell me about him. We can't change the past, so there's no point in playing could've, would've, should've."

"Okay, I got it," Cinnamon was stroking past his chest, her fingers running lightly on the area below his navel to the top of the groin, right where the pubic hair would have started, if he didn't keep that area smooth. He didn't wear those little wrestling trunks anymore, but it was a habit he'd gotten into from when he did. No one wanted to see pubes sticking out of your trunks. "But the point is, that you two are strangers that should have a deep connection. He's afraid he won't measure up to what you expect from a son."

"I'm worried that I won't measure up to what he expects from a Dad," he confessed, his fingers running through her hair. She had the most amazing hair. First that copper color, that sometimes seemed red, sometimes seemed gold. Second it was so fine and smooth, like slipping his fingers through silken threads. Third, it was so long, hanging almost to her waist. Sometimes, when she sat up naked, her hair would drape over her shoulders and spill down, covering her breasts in such an erotic way that he would find himself getting so hard it was almost painful. He had fucked dozens of, maybe even hundreds of women. He had gone to so many strip clubs he lost count and seen the most amazingly sexy and exotic things, girls could do, girls who spent hours learning the moves. Yet, this simple thing, for Cinnamon merely to sit up and let her hair cover her breasts was a million times more erotic than the best exotic dance routine in the world. He found himself taking a lock of her hair and draping it over her shoulder so it spilled down on her breasts. "I'm so new to all of this."

"See? You're nervous, he's nervous." Cinnamon moved a little closer and kissed his neck. "You two need to spend some time together. Tomorrow you agreed to hang out with him, he's going to show you his wrestling ring. That's a place you'll both be comfortable with, so you can get to know each other a little bit then." She ran her tongue up his neck to his ear before continuing, "And after that, well, phone calls and whatever other ways you two can stay in touch. Is it going to be easy? No. But it can be done."

He rolled over so he was on his elbow, facing her, and cupped one of her breasts in his hand, thumb stroking over the nipple. She wasn't as well endowed as some of the other girls he knew, just a B cup, but oh, they were fine. And besides, wasn't anything above a handful a waste? He felt a little strange though, having this rather serious conversation while they two of them were obviously leading into another session of sex, but there was something that seemed right about it too. They were alone, the kid was asleep, this was their time. "I do get days off here and there, not many, but if I'm close, I will come over if you'll let me."

"Mox, you always have a place here," she said, shifting closer so her breasts were actually touching his chest, which meant he couldn't stroke them anymore, but that was okay, the feel of their skin meeting was enough. She put one arm at the curve of his waist. "I told you, when you're with me and we're alone, you're my Mox. You're welcome to come here any time you want. To see Neil, to claim your Cinnamon girl, it doesn't matter. I know you have a place of your own in Las Vegas, but this is your home, too."

"I don't want to interrupt your life," he said, looking into her eyes. "I mean, I've gathered you're free and single now, but what if you meet someone?"

She shook her head. "I haven't met anyone I cared to have an intimate relationship with since you, I don't think I'm going to meet someone any time soon."

"No one?" he asked, shocked by this. "You haven't had sex at all since we...separated?"

"Nope," she admitted easily. "I tried dating a guy from WVW, we went out exactly twice, then I realized I was trying to replace you with him, and it was never going to work. I think he realized it too, because we're still good friends. He helped build Neil's ring in the back and he's stayed here a few times when he's needed a place to crash. But other than that? Nothing. Neil has been a big reason for that, I was more worried about being a good Mom than dating. Don't look at me like that!" she blushed and he realized he had been staring at her probably with a look of shock. "I have no regrets. I never felt like I was missing out by not having a man in my life. The only thing I felt I missed was _you_."

He gathered her in his arms and rolled with her, so she was on top of him. "I can't say the same," he admitted. "I've had plenty of women, but-"

She stopped him by putting her finger on his lips. "Mox, please don't say anything you might regret." She held herself up on her other arm, looking down at him. "Don't say it wasn't the same, or whatever. I don't care who you've been with, I don't care if it was good, bad, or indifferent with them. I don't care if you sleep with ten women a night one right after another, or all at the same time and each night gets better than the last. I don't want to hear about them, because when you're with me, they don't exist. All that matters is how we feel, right at this moment. And right now? I want you." She took her fingers off his lip and sat up on him, reaching behind her to see how he was doing. "And right now, I'd say you're well on your way to wanting me again too." She brought her hands back around and leaned forward, raising her hips off of him, and sliding down his body. "Now, let's see if I can't bring you all the way into wanting me," she whispered and then ran her tongue from his navel to the part of him she had just stroked with her hands. Her touch had done some magic, she used her mouth for the rest.

They made round four that night, and then sleep claimed them both.

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><p>The next day he had spent time with Neil in the ring, after breakfast. Neil had taken him outside and shown him, again acting almost shy about it. "It's pretty good," he said, softly. "I mean, you probably think it's lame, but I like it."<p>

Dean walked around it, studying the ring carefully. It was not a child's toy, and he could really appreciate the work that had gone into making it. It was the size of a smaller professional ring, 16' x 16'. The posts were thick PVC pipe, sunk into concrete and filled with concrete too, which also helped to keep the eye hooks for the ropes from coming lose. Around the poles was a thick layer of foam which you wouldn't find on a professional ring, but Dean understood this was probably Cinnamon's idea for extra protection. The base of the ring was made of wood, to which black diamond plate had been fastened. He knew from an earlier conversation that the base was filled with a layer of old tires and on top of that, a layer of old mattresses. The ropes were steel cable that had been threaded through garden hoses, another diversion from professional rings, but again, probably for added protection. The turnbuckles too, were extra heavily padded. looking like they were homemade, a dense foam with a canvas covering. When he had checked out the outside, he climbed inside and walked around. The ring had some good spring to it and Dean knew he had wrestled professionally on far worse rings than this one. "Very nice!"

"You're just saying that," Neil mumbled, staring at his feet.

"No, I'm not," Dean disagreed. "Don't argue with me about this, I know my stuff."

Neil looked at him for a moment like a puppy who had been hit on the nose with a newspaper. "I-I-I" he stuttered, then hung his head. "Sorry."

_Oh__,__ man, I shouldn't have come down so hard on him,_ Dean thought. "So, you want to be a wrestler too?" He motioned to the kid to climb into the ring.

Neil nodded as he climbed up and into the ring. "I always wanted to be one," he said, sounding slightly defensive. "Even before I found out that you-" he stopped abruptly.

"That me, what?" Dean asked, thinking to himself, S_ay it, say it, say I'm your father, please, this would be so much easier if you acknowledged we're related_.

"That you are... you know..." Neil shrugged and refused to say.

It hadn't gone any better after that. He tried to get the kid to loosen up around him, but it was like Neil was strung tighter than a wire. He thought wrestling would be something they both could relate to, but instead it seemed to make it worse. Then, after a rather awkward afternoon and evening, he had to leave to make sure he got to Richmond Virginia in time to do an early morning interview and a house show the next night. So, he never got the chance to really talk to Neil, to try to work past this awkward stage.

Dean didn't like failure, but for the first time in a long time he felt entirely out of his league.

_End of Part One_

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><p><span><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>** Yes, I know, Neil should be thrilled and delighted that Dean is his father. At least that's what it seems like on the surface. But think about it for a moment... imagine if you were his age and your idol was your father? Wouldn't you be nervous and cautious? **

**Thank you's (responses from the Epilogue of Dreamer of Pictures)**

**Nancy: **** Yeah, poor Neil was so worried about being a good kid he wants to do the wrong things. It would have been far better for both of them if Neil had leaped into Dean's arms and shrieked, "DADDY!" Yeah, Dean would have been a little startled, but he would have known where he stood. Right now, both of them are out of sorts. Let's hope by the time this is over, they'll have an understanding. **

**Guest:**** Well, Dreamer of Pictures ended... I hope you're following to this one. Thanks for your review, I really do appreciate it!**

**Just a Reader:**** Yeah, as I said above, poor Neil is doing exactly the wrong thing wanting to be cool. But, I have to figure relationships like this are never easy. It seems like it should be, but when you're inside of it, it's overwhelming. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**

**Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

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><p><strong>Run in the Night<br>**_Part Two_

Dean wasn't crazy about technology, he never used his twitter (which he hadn't even set up, the WWE had done that for him) and he didn't have a facebook. But, he did have a cell phone. Up until now, he would have happily set his goal to be the last person in the world to own one, but his line of work seemed to demand a constant life line to him, so he had one. It could do a bunch of stuff that he had no clue about and didn't really care about, it could probably make coffee, fluff his pillows, and blow him if he just knew how to get the right app. for it, but that didn't matter; what mattered was that he could make phone calls with it. So, he started calling Cinnamon every night and asking her to put Neil on the phone.

He decided to play it cool, talk to him casually. "Hi, how are you doing? What have you been up to?" that sort-of thing. No more serious than asking him what he might have eaten for dessert that night with dinner. Neil told him about swimming lessons, or times spent with friends. Neil had a bike and loved to go on long, rambling bike rides through the country side. Dean listened and wondered if it was smart for Cinnamon to let him go on these rides, especially when he was alone.

"Where's your favorite place to go on these rides?" he asked once, just to have something to say to the kid.

"There's an old farm not too far away from here," Neil said. "I go there a lot. There's a stone wall, I like to sit on it and think. I call it my thinking spot."

"What do you think about?" Dean asked him.

"Stuff," Neil said, and Dean could hear the defensive tone starting to creep into his voice and soon enough he was making an excuse to get off the phone and handing it to Cinnamon.

_Is it wrong to ask kids what they think about at their thinking spot? _ Dean pondered. _I didn't have a thinking spot as a kid, is this something only country kids have? Do other kids have a thinking spot or is this something weird only my kid does? Does Leah have a thinking spot? Did Roman have one when he was a kid? __Did Seth have a thinking spot? __ Did Cinnamon have a thinking spot?__ Should I tell Cinnamon about the thinking spot or does she already know? He didn't sound like it was any big secret, but should I make sure?_

He decided not to ask Cinnamon if she knew about the thinking spot. He was pretty sure Neil had already told her, but just in case he hadn't, Dean didn't want to betray a confidence. Besides, what harm was sitting on an old stone wall going to do? Unless, of course, there were creeps and weirdos running around. It seemed like every time you listened to the news, there were stories of creeps and weirdos doing creepy weird things, he noticed that lately. It seemed like every other day there was some child being taken away by a creep or a weirdo. Was Cinnamon aware of the creeps and weirdos? She must be, she was a mother, a good mother. Didn't good mothers keep up on the latest creepy and weird thing going on?

Whenever he talked to Cinnamon about how badly this was going, she sympathized, but tried to reassure him that these things take time.

"I don't get it!" Dean had protested. "He worshiped me, wouldn't shut up around me, until he found out I was his father. Then bang, he hates me!"

"He doesn't hate you," Cinnamon said. "He's unsure about you. We talked about it before. He doesn't want you to be disappointed with him. He wants to be the perfect son, because you're his idol."

"He'd probably be more relaxed if Seth was his father," Dean muttered.

"Probably," Cinnamon agreed. "Because he's already convinced Seth has faults. Seth was the jerk that broke up The Shield."

"You know, it sucks to hear my kid would rather have Seth Rollins as a father," Dean said, sounding more hurt than he intended.

"No, I never _said_ that," Cinnamon disagreed. "I said he'd probably be more relaxed. There's a difference. Trust me, Neil is thrilled that you're his father, he's just worried that you won't like him. Just like you're worried that he won't like you."

"He's got it easier," Dean grumbled. "Neil doesn't have to worry about screwing up."

Cinnamon laughed at that and changed the subject, which he knew was her way of saying that dwelling on it wasn't going to make it any better.

So, he stuck to keeping the calls as casual as possible, but he made sure to call every day he possibly could. Unlike Roman though, who looked forward to communicating with his daughter, Dean had to admit to himself he looked at it as a chore he had to get through. Usually Cinnamon answered the phone, and they spoke for a moment, and then she would call Neil for a few minutes of awkward conversation.

One time though, after school had started up for the fall, she answered the phone and it was easy to hear that she had been laughing. "Hi, Love!" she called out cheerfully, which made his heart leap and suddenly he wished he was with her right now, not just for sex, but to see the grin on her face, the glow to her, that her voice implied was there. "Neil has some news for you, so I'm putting him on the phone now, okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds great!" Dean said, thinking that maybe this was it, this was the conversation that would break down the walls and get the two communicating.

"Hi!" Neil sounded bright and eager on the phone and Dean was surprised at how happy that made him. "I got 100% on my math test this week! And I'm in advanced math, and the test was on reciprocals! I was having_ so _much trouble with them earlier, but Mom kept explaining them, and I finally got it and so when I got my test back today, it was _100%!_ I didn't get a single question wrong! Even the _work_ I showed to get my answers was perfect!"

"Wow!" Dean couldn't help but feel a little proud of the kid. Even though he really had nothing to do with Neil's good grades, that was more of Cinnamon's influence than his, he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit as responsible. I mean, the kid did have his DNA too. "That's terrific!"

"Yeah," Neil agreed, still thrilled with his accomplishment. "Mom says I can go to WVW Saturday with her, and we'll even go _really_ early, so I can talk to all the guys and everyone for awhile! And Mom and I also went for a long bike ride this afternoon after school! We rode our bikes all the way down to the park and we hunted for salamanders! It was _so_ fun!"

"Wow, you're so smart," Dean said, meaning it. "I wasn't half as smart at your age as you are now. In fact, I might not _now_ be nearly as smart as you are."

"You're smart," Neil disagreed.

"Nope," Dean disagreed, meaning to make his son feel even better about himself. "I never was in advanced classes. I was so bad at school I dropped out when I was sixteen."

"Really?"

Neil's voice sounded interested, which Dean took to be a good sign and continued. "Yeah, I dropped out. But it was cool, I got to work for Heartland wrestling and since I wanted to be a professional wrestler, what difference did it make?" The words were barely out of his mouth when he remembered that Neil wanted to be a professional wrestler too, and he wondered if once again, he had said the wrong thing. Was he encouraging his son to not care about his school work, telling him that it would be just fine for him to slough off, that he would just be able to drop out when he was sixteen? "But, that doesn't mean you should do that!" he hastily added. "You're smart, Neil. You're really smart. You shouldn't do what I did. I mean, even I went back and got my GED." He frowned at that as well. Was that bad too? Was that giving the kid the message it was perfectly okay to drop out, because he could get his GED like Dean had done? "But, a GED isn't as good as a real diploma. And, you should go to college. Plenty of time for professional wrestling after college. But right now, the most important thing is that you get good grades. You need to work hard, earn those grades!"

"I did," Neil's voice suddenly lost all it's enthusiasm, and sounded smaller. "I got a hundred on my math test," he said the last part hesitantly, as if he was now wondering if he couldn't have somehow done better.

"Yeah, and I'm really proud of you!" Dean said quickly, trying to get him back to the happy kid he'd been when he'd gotten on the phone with him. "You did great. But I just don't want you to think that you can do what I did and just not worry about your education. It's important that you keep learning, studying, keep getting better and better at your subjects."

"A hundred means I got _all_ the questions right," Neil continued, his voice going even softer. "It means I even got all the work to _get_ to the answers right. You can't _do_ any better than a hundred."

"I know," Dean said, feeling as if this conversation was a living thing, like a fish, and the harder he tried to grab onto it, the more it struggled to get away from him. "And I'm proud of you, I'm just saying, I want you to keep doing well!" Great, now his voice was raising, as if he was yelling at the kid.

"Okay." Dean could almost picture the kid, so inflated with happiness and self pride and then Dean came along and like a literal and figurative prick, had popped a hole in him and he was deflating rapidly. "I'm gonna let you talk to Mom."

As Neil handed the phone to Cinnamon, Dean smacked his hand into his forehead, hard. "Hi," Cinnamon said into the phone.

"Hi, I suck," Dean found himself admitting through gritted teeth.

"Well," Cinnamon said, and Dean could tell she was trying to be diplomatic, but finally gave in to the truth. "Yeah, that did not go well, I must admit."

"Jesus, I'm such an idiot!" he exclaimed, smacking his palm to his forehead again. "Let me talk to him again, okay?"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Cinnamon said, hesitantly.

"Please?" he begged. "I need to make this right, _please_ let me talk to him."

"Oh-kay," she dragged out the word as if trying to buy more time. He heard the sound of her hand covering the phone, but unfortunately, he could still hear everything she said, perfectly. "Neil, your father wants to talk to you again. C'mon Neil, he feels really bad. Please? Just talk to him. He means well, he really does, but we talked about this before, he's new to all of this. Please? For me?"

_She has to coax my own son to talk to me,_ Dean thought, ashamed and embarrassed. _I'm never going to get this parent thing down. I s__hould have told Cinnamon that I didn't want to be part of his life, I'm going to ruin the kid. _

After a few more minutes of Cinnamon wheedling, where he couldn't hear Neil say anything, but Dean was picturing him, just shaking his head no, Neil's voice finally came on the line again, timid and cautious. "Hello?"

"Neil, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that stuff," Dean rushed to speak, "It was wrong of me. You're so smart and I'm so proud of you, I think you did so awesome on the test. The other stuff about me? And all that other crap? Ignore it, I'm stupid, remember? I dropped out of school, which makes me stupid. You're smart."

"Okay," Neil said, but Dean knew from the tone of the kid's voice it was not "okay," it was anything but "okay." If there was a one to ten scale of "okay," Neil's "okay" registered at about negative six.

_He thinks I'm just trying to make him feel better, _Dean realized, half tempted to start ripping his hair out in frustration._ He thinks he's done something wrong, but I'm patronizing him now, because I don't want him to be unhappy._ "I'm serious, Neil, I am proud of you. I think it's awesome you got an A."

"A+," Neil hesitantly corrected. "100% is A+"

"Yeah, A+" Dean hastily agreed. "Even better. I'm proud of you, Neil. Really proud of you."

"Thanks." Neil sounded completely unconvinced. "I have to go to the bathroom," he said, relief coming to his voice as if he realized this was a perfect excuse. "Here's Mom again."

"Did I make it any better?" Dean asked almost desperately, when Cinnamon came back on the phone.

"A little," Cinnamon said, but he had the feeling she was either lying or grossly exaggerating to make him feel better.

"I'll never get this down," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Cinnamon said, and she sounded sincere. "You've only know you were a father for a few months, and Neil is a nine, almost ten year old boy. You're bound to make mistakes."

"A mistake here and there would be fine," Dean said, trying to keep that edge of desperate frustration from creeping into his voice, but not having much success. "But it's like all I _do_ is make mistakes!"

He was grateful that Cinnamon didn't lie, that she didn't try to tell him that no, he wasn't _that_ bad. That would have been even worse. Instead, she didn't agree or disagree, she sighed. "You're trying too hard," she said.

"How can you try too hard when it comes to being a parent?" he asked, pretty sure that the good parents always tried as hard as they could. "I thought that was impossible."

"You're over-thinking everything," Cinnamon said. "You need to relax."

He supposed that was good advice, but how do you _not_ over-think? Thinking wasn't something you could just turn on and off. And every time he told himself not to "over-think" he would find himself thinking even harder about whatever it was he wasn't supposed to "over-think."

"Tell me about your day," Cinnamon said, changing the subject abruptly.

Dean sighed, but he allowed for the subject change. "It was okay," he said. "I miss you though."

"I miss you, too," Cinnamon said, and he knew that this time, she was being completely honest.

* * *

><p>Later, as he was disconnecting the call, there was a knock on the door of the hotel room he was staying in. He opened it to find Roman, who was staying across the hall. "Do you want to go party?" Roman asked.<p>

Dean thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I like the idea of a drink, but I also need to talk to you, so if it's okay with you, can we go someplace that isn't a party joint?"

"Sure," Roman said, looking at him seriously. "Is everything okay?"

"I'll tell you when I've got alcohol in front of me," Dean said. "Because at this point, I desperately need alcohol in front of me. In front of me and inside me."

"Okay, let's go," Roman said.

_End of Part 2_

**Author's Notes:**** Poor Dean. I agree with Cinnamon, he's doing way too much overthinking and making everything worse instead of better.**

**Thank you time:**

**Just A Reader:**** I think part of the problem too, is that Dean doesn't realize that Neil might be more like him than he thought. Unfortunately, you can't just sit two people down like this and go, "RELAX! You both can work this out," because it will make them more nervous. But, I think Neil and Dean will find a way to work it out. **

**Imma Reader:**** Yeah, I'd be pretty awestruck if I found out Dean Ambrose was my dad too. And I'm sure Neil's desire to be a professional wrester isn't making it that much easier. I don't know the full ending to this story yet, I'm still at the stage where I can be surprised with what happens, but I think Neil and Dean will find their way to each other by the end of this. At least I hope they will. **

**To everyone else that took the time to review? Thank you, ever so much. And if you're reading this and haven't reviewed? Well, I'd love it if you did. Even if you just write "Liked it," it still inspires me to continue. I'm seriously thinking about doing another story in this series, but if I feel interest is waining, I probably won't bother. (Although I will finish this story, on that I promise) **

**See you (hopefully) for Part 3**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**

**Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Run in the Night<strong>

_Part Three_

The bar in the hotel was relatively quiet, they decided to go there. _I'm getting old, _Dean thought as he sat down at one of the booths, waiting for Roman, who had agreed to buy the first round. _I'm not even thirty and I'm sitting in the hotel bar.__ Not the hotel nightclub, the hotel bar. __ I should be out partying. Whoever said kids age you was right. _

"Jack and Coke," Roman said, interrupting his thoughts as he put a drink down in front of him and sat down across from him.

"What are you drinking?" Dean asked, taking a healthy swallow of his own drink.

"SoCo and coke," Roman said, shrugging. "A _serious_ conversation drink." A faint grin played across his lips.

Dean snorted, then sighed. "Roman, I'm a lousy father. No, I'm worse than that, I'm a _shitty_ father. I managed to make my son feel bad for getting 100% on a math test today. Is that lousy or what?"

Roman looked at him and shook his head. "Okay, tell me the story, bro. We've got drinks in our hands and a bar full of alcohol, you talk, I'll listen."

So, Dean told him about how awkward it had been going for Neil and him, ending it with the conversation they just had, where Dean had somehow managed to make Neil feel bad for getting 100% on a test. "How do you even _do_ that?" Dean said, his voice almost cracking. "How could I screw up so bad that my kid feels like I'm not happy with him, because he got a perfect score?"

"Yeah," Roman said, shaking his head in sympathy. "That- uhm-"

"-is something you'd never do," Dean interrupted, mumbling. "Because you're _perfect._"

"No I'm not." Roman shook his head to further emphasize his point. "Dean, I've screwed up with Leah, more times than I'd like to count."

"No you haven't," Dean said stubbornly. "You're a perfect dad. You're like, the polar opposite of me."

Roman sighed. "When Leah was about two, she was drinking a glass of apple juice. She dropped the glass and as it's falling, she yelled out, clear as a bell, "Oh, shit!'"

Unable to stop himself, a snort of laughter escaped from Dean. "Seriously?"

Roman nodded. "And my initial reaction was the same as yours. I wanted to laugh."

"Did you?" Dean was curious and half hoped Roman would say he broke up he was laughing so hard.

"No, I caught Jessica's eye and damned well knew if I laughed, I'd end up on the wrong side of the bedroom door, if you get my drift. So, I was able to stop myself." Roman took a sip of his drink.

"See? You didn't screw up," Dean said, swirling his glass so the ice cubes clinked along the sides. "Me? I would have laughed my ass off and _then_ realized that would piss her off."

"No, I still screwed up," Roman disagreed. "Yeah, I managed not to laugh, but where do you think Leah heard that word from? She didn't hear it from Jessica. If Jessica ever swears, I know there is something of a catastrophic nature happening. Leah heard it from _me._ I screwed up enough that Leah knew the word well enough to use it."

"Yeah, but that's nothing," Dean said. "You caught it and I've never heard her swear. In fact, when I babysat for her and swore, she took me to task about it, told me I owed the swear jar."

"You were swearing around my daughter?" Roman asked, eyes narrowing.

"Uh...maybe?" Dean said, his gaze going to the ceiling.

"See?" Roman said, deciding instead of getting mad, he would use this to prove his point. "You screwed up with my daughter and you don't beat yourself up about it. And Leah _loves_ you."

"That's different," Dean said, shaking his head. "If I screw up with your daughter, that's your problem. If I screw up with Neil, it's serious."

Roman stared at him. "We're brothers, Dean, but you _might_ want to find another way to put that."

Dean shrugged, but knew he had to explain or Roman might get more than a little testy. "Okay, let's say I give Leah the whole, 'I dropped out of High school and I did just fine' thing, like I was doing with Neil. And let's say she tells you when she's sixteen, 'well, Unca Dean didn't graduate-"

"-I hope she's not calling you 'Unca' Dean by the time she's sixteen," Roman said, frowning, but with a gleam in his eyes. "Or else we'll be spending her college fund on speech therapy."

"You know what I mean," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "But anyway, if she tries to tell you she's going to drop out of High School because of me, you and Jessica will just say, 'uh, no, your Uncle Dean is an idiot and we're not going to let you be one.' With Neil it's different. What if he comes to me and says, 'I'm going to drop out of school and since I want to be a professional wrestler like you, it shouldn't matter, right?' What do I say to that?"

Roman shook his head. "Cinnamon is right, you're over-thinking it. Neil is what, ten? Almost ten?"

"Almost," Dean said.

"Okay, he's not going to drop out of school any time soon," Roman said. "And if he says he's going to, you can point out to him that he legally has to stay in school until he's sixteen."

"Yeah, but what about when he's sixteen? Then what?"

Roman took another swallow of his drink to give him a moment, then put the glass back on the table. "Over-thinking," he said, shaking his head. "You're buying trouble that hasn't even come knocking yet. You have six, almost seven years before it will be an issue. And in that time, he might decide he doesn't want to be a wrestler. Or, even if he does, by then he'll understand more about how important it is for wrestlers to have something else to fall back on."

"Really? Like _I _did?" Dean asked, not trying very hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Neil isn't growing up like you," Roman reminded him, as if he needed reminding. "And besides, you've got a lot of years to talk to him about it. You can tell him how you always regretted that if something happens and you can't wrestle, you've got nothing to fall back on."

"But I _don't_ regret that I didn't go to college," Dean said. "I really don't. If something happens to me and I can't wrestle, maybe I will go to college, unless my brain is messed up. If my brain is messed up, it won't matter if I went to college or not. I wasn't going to waste four of my peak physical years on college. Or even two years being a lousy student in a place I hated. So, is that what I tell him?" He picked up his glass and took a good sized swallow of his drink.

Roman ran his hand over his forehead, half wishing his hair wasn't pulled back in a ponytail so he could run his fingers through that instead. "Again, you're over-thinking it."

"There's that word again," Dean muttered darkly, taking another gulp of his drink, which finished it off this time. "My turn," he said, before Roman could respond, and rose from his chair.

When he returned, he had four drinks, two which he put down in front of Roman and two in front of himself. "I figured I'd save the bother of having to go up all the time," he mumbled, sitting down again.

Roman sighed and shook his head. Not that he minded having two drinks in front of him, it was that his friend seemed so down and also didn't seem to understand the advice he was being given. What he felt was that Dean needed was some time off. Not just a day here and there, but a couple of weeks where Neil and his father would have the time to get to know each other. But, he also knew the Powers That Be were not likely to make the offer and Dean was not likely to ask. Dean was career driven to an extreme. A good thing in their line of work, because the Powers that Be expected a 24/7/365 commitment if you wanted to go anywhere in the company, unless your name was Brock Lesnar. Since Dean's name was not Brock, and he did not look like he'd ridden the steroid express from one end of the country to the other, the only way he was likely to get more than a day or so every couple weeks off, was if he got injured. And Dean was not the type to deliberately court injury for time off.

He looked across the table where Dean had blown through his second drink and was well into his third. Career driven or not, Roman knew this was bothering Dean, and he hurt for his friend. Dean had never known what real family was until The Shield. Not just the brotherhood of the three of them, but Roman's family had taken him in. Jessica saw him as a favorite brother in law, Leah as a favorite uncle.

It extended beyond just Roman's fiance and daughter. His parents looked at Dean as another son. He remembered the first time he brought Dean around to meet his folks, it was way back when NTX was still FCW. They weren't even The Shield then, but Roman and Dean had gotten pretty friendly and had spent a few nights tearing down the town together. When Roman found out Dean had no plans for Thanksgiving other than to get drunk on his sofa, Roman had convinced him that he should really come over to his folks for dinner.

Roman's mother had immediately sensed that Dean, for all his bluff and bravado, was someone who needed a family, in particular, a surrogate mother, and being the woman she was, she set out to fill that void. It hadn't taken long before Roman, Jessica, and Leah would go over there for Sunday dinner, and there was Dean, having been invited directly by Mom. Even Dean knew the golden rule, don't ever pass up a chance for a home cooked meal from Mom.

Roman knew that Dean appreciated this, his new extended family that remembered his birthday, expected him to spend holidays with them if he was able to get there. Even appreciated that sometimes Mom would call up and "mother" him from time to time. But, even though Roman's family adored him, he knew that Dean never could quite feel that they truly were "his" family. If Dean could make things work with Cinnamon and Neil, he might finally have a family of his own. And Dean might act like he didn't really care, but Roman knew he did.

"How's it going with Cinnamon?" he asked, figuring he'd get the subject off Neil and hopefully on to something a little less depressing for him.

"Great, if we can fuck," Dean said, shrugging.

Roman took a sip of his drink, still just his second. "Really? That's all your relationship is?"

"No," Dean admitted. "But it's weird. She.. she tells me she won't try to chain me down. Is that strange or what? She's the mother of my kid, isn't she supposed to _want_ to chain me down?" He ran his fingers through his hair, which instead of taming it, only made it look more out of control. "I mean, I would understand if there was nothing between us anymore, but seriously, Roman, the sex is _mind blowing._ I've done stuff with her I haven't done with anyone else, because we're just so-" he paused, waving his hand in a lazy circle, trying to gather his thoughts, "-_comfortable. _And it's like we never were apart when it comes to sex, we're picking right up where we left off. Hell, Roman, she'll even sex me up by phone if Neil is asleep and she doesn't have to go to work. And, yeah, this is embarrassing, but sometimes phone sex with her is better than banging a real woman. Unless the real woman is her, of course. I mean, I always heard that once a woman had a kid, she was never quite the same, but I'll be dipped if I can feel any difference."

"Okay," Roman said, a little surprised at the flood of information from his friend. "And this is a problem, _because?_"

Dean shrugged. "She isn't seeing anyone. She's admitted to me that the most she ever did, the whole time we were apart, was to go on two dates with a guy from WVW. Then, she realized she was only going out with him because he reminded her of me, or some such stuff. And that's _it_. I don't even know if she kissed this guy. This means that I'm the second _and_ third guy she's ever had sex with. Weird, isn't it? I had over a dozen women by the time I was fourteen, she's had two her whole life. Me and her high school sweetheart."

"She wanted to focus on Neil," Roman guessed. "She's a single mother, she probably wanted to be very careful before she brought someone into her life."

"That's the funny thing, apparently she's run a home for wayward wrestlers." Dean shook his head. "I know, it's all on the up and up. She's a paramedic." He raised his glass and tossed back the contents. "She takes them home when they're injured to baby sit them, because guys in the WVW aren't exactly rich and often refuse to go to doctors." He looked at Roman. "I could use another drink. You?"

"I'm still on my second," Roman said, motioning to the drink he hadn't even touched. Dean grabbed it.

"I'll take this. SoCo and coke isn't bad." Dean took a sip.

"Dean, if you keep this up, you're going to get hammered," Roman pointed out.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Dean muttered, taking another sip. "Where were we? Oh yeah, Cinnamon. She's got a lot of wrestler friends, but it's all on the up and up. I'm the only wrestler she fucks."

"Okay, I think I got that," Roman said. "Why is this a problem?"

"It's not," Dean said. "I think it's awesome that she isn't anything like my mother. That she's never brought home one guy after another. But...well, she tells me she doesn't care what _I_ do. She's told me she doesn't care who I have sex with, how many women I have sex with, but when we're alone, she's mine and I'm hers."

Roman almost smiled. He was pretty sure Cinnamon wasn't playing a game, that didn't seem to be her style, but if she wanted to, she couldn't have picked a better one. If she had told Dean that in order to be in her bed, he'd better _only_ be in her bed, he would have balked and screwed every available woman within a five mile radius, just to show her he wouldn't be tied down by anyone. He wondered if Cinnamon knew the head game she had put onto Dean. "You know, no one is telling you that you _have_ to screw other women," Roman said, "She isn't _forcing_ you. She's just saying she doesn't want to know if you do."

"I know," Dean said. "But it's weird. I mean, when I'm with her, I don't care. But when I'm away I know I could just...go pick up some tail or call up Renee or whatever. And it won't make any difference. Shouldn't it make a difference? Shouldn't it bother her? Shouldn't it bother me?"

_It does bother you,_ Roman thought. "I don't know, that's something you have to discuss with her. Do you want her to tell you not to screw anyone else?"

"Yes-no-maybe!" Dean said, looking flustered. "I don't know," He finally admitted. "I just don't know."

"Are you unhappy with your relationship with her?"

Dean shook his head. "No, I'm not unhappy. I'm glad we connected again. I just wish... I just wish Neil and I could connect. I know I'm not what anyone would consider father material, but, I'm_ trying_, I'm just full of failing."

"It will come to you," Roman said, "You just need some time." He hesitated, not sure if he should bring up what he saw as a solution, but then decided to go for it. "You should see if you can take some time off. I'd say a couple weeks, but I know you, so let's just say a few days. Take a few days off and spend some serious time with Neil and Cinnamon."

"Oh great, spend three days being awkward and having the kid really hate my guts," Dean muttered.

"No, three days getting to know the kid. Letting him get to know you, too. Let him see you're human, you're not just some awesome wrestling God. Let him see that you aren't perfect, that you fart like any other human being, that you sometimes leave the seat up."

"You notice I leave the seat up?" Dean asked, looking at Roman with a slightly suspicious expression.

"No, but Jessica noticed it when she fell into the toilet when you stayed at my house one time. Hell hath no fury like a woman who just got an ass bath while attempting to take a leak."

"Three days isn't enough time to show the kid I'm human, unless I really work at it." Dean said. "And, even if I went out of my way, by the time he's convinced I'm just a guy outside the ring, it'll be time to get back to work."

Roman shook his head, deciding that Dean had wallowed enough. "So, what are you going to do, Dean? Give up? Tell Cinnamon you can't hack it so you won't be Neil's father? Let Neil think he didn't measure up after all?"

Dean stared at him, his eyes narrowing. "No," he said, his teeth almost gritted. "I promised Cinnamon that I would be his father. I won't give up."

"Good," Roman said. "Because that would be a pretty shitty thing to do. Since you're not going to give up, what are you going to do?"

"That's the problem," Dean said. "I have no fucking clue."

End of Part 3

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Notes:<span> Yes, I did it, I said Brock Lesnar looked like he used steroids. I have no clue if he ever did or not. Or if he does now. Nor do I really care. But he _looks_ like he has used steroids. Since I am in no position to get him in any trouble for steroid use, my opinion means exactly jack squat. So, if you're a huge Lesnar fan and you're angry at me for insulting your hero, just tell yourself that my opinion means absolutely nothing in the scheme of things. I openly admit I am not a Lesnar fan. **

**Also, I know we've had three chapters of laying ground work on the relationship between Dean and Neil. I promise that the next chapter is going to heat things up. **

**Special Thanks to:**

**Nancy:**** Thank you, I'm glad you think I'm talented. *blush* I do admit that I find relationships between people interesting. And as much as I dislike seeing Neil and Dean suffer, I'm enjoying exploring this and realizing how complicated it really would be. Both Dean and Neil are making mistakes, but it's hard to look at two people like this and go, "Okay, calm down, both of you. Neil, be yourself. Dean, be yourself. You'll work it out if you just RELAX!" **

**Guest:**** Yeah, poor Dean. Let's hope by the end of this, Dean and Neil can find a way to each other. **

**Imma Guest:**** You're right, Dean probably could use some help from folks in the same boat! It might have helped. But yes, that's exactly what I'm trying to capture here. Dean is completely out of his element and he doesn't quite know what to do about it. Yes, Roman ****talked to him, but Roman has been with Leah since the day she was born. He's watched her personality grow and blossom. Dean doesn't have that advantage. Dean has a son who already has a complete personality. **

**To everyone else who has reviewed, thank you so much. You're the ones that keep me going, keep me writing when I think there are other things I could be doing in my spare time. (Like raking. I really need to do some raking!) If you've been following and haven't reviewed yet, I'd really be grateful if you did. Even if it's just to say, "Good story," or, "Like it," it still encourages me. **

**Thank you**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**

**Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Run in the Night<br>**_Part Four_

It was the Smackdown taping and Dean was in the ring with Ryback, which was, in a way, old home week for him, like the old days when The Shield was brand new and it seemed like all they ever did was attack Ryback. It was interesting now though, wrestling with him one on one.

He was supposed to win this one, not that it really mattered that much, they weren't in the middle of a bitter rivalry, this was a throw away match, a chance for the WWE Universe to see two of their favorite stars going at it. He didn't even remember what the excuse was for them to be fighting, something lame no doubt, but it didn't matter. When you got into the ring with Ryback, at least you knew you were going to wrestle, you weren't going to be interrupted with fake spooky shit or ridiculous looking "crab walking" that was supposed to make you all scared, but instead looked like this person forgot they were an adult, and instead decided they were a five year old. That stuff got awful old, awful fast. Bray wasn't even here tonight, which was just fine by Dean. A good match with Ryback, no tricks, no gimmicks, just plying the trade they both loved.

They were about a quarter of the way through the match, Ryback had just powered out of Dean's latest attempt to drag him out. The game was for Ryback to look like he was getting the upper hand now, as Dean had it in the first part. They would go at it another ten minutes or so with Ryback being the aggressor, then Dean would power out of the corner, fight him to the middle of the ring, throw a Dirty Deeds on him, take the pin. It was a match Dean could have done in his sleep.

As he fought, he kept an eye on the referee and an ear out for the announcers, in case anything was supposed to change. Nothing ever did, especially on Smackdown, because it was taped. If their fight ran overtime, it could be edited to be shorter, using commercials as the excuse, but still, as a professional, he had to pay attention.

Then he heard it; Michael Cole saying three words. Three words that no one in the crowd would have ever singled out as anything unusual, but if someone sat down and thought about it, studied it, they'd realize that three word phrase was hardly ever used in any match and if it was, they might also notice that just about every match it had been used in had ended with interference.

The phrase had an abbreviation in the locker room, SAGD (pronounced Sagged), which stood for Shit's About to Go Down. It was a warning to the wrestlers and the referee that things were going to change and go out of script very quickly, that a match was going to be ended as soon as possible, usually because they had to get one or both of the wrestlers out of that ring and back stage as fast as possible.

Dean had no idea why the SAGD had been given. He looked over at Ryback, who was looking just as confused. Both of them looked fine, felt fine, so it couldn't be that someone thought one of them was in medical trouble, so what was it? Problem in the arena and they needed to close down the show quickly? That had never happened to Dean before, but he'd heard of it happening in other venues with other wrestling companies.

Then he saw Erick Rowin charging into the ring with that stupid camel mask and grab him. Before Dean could react, Erick just managed to whisper in his ear, "Ride with it!" and threw him to the ground. Dean barely had time to prep for impact and he was bouncing off the floor of the ring, then Luke Harper was there too and the two of them were kicking the floor around Dean, making it look for the world like they were intent on beating the snot out of him.

What shocked Dean was that this fit into his feud with Bray. Bray wasn't here, it wouldn't be that unusual that his former flunkies would want to exact a little revenge, break him down a bit before the next PPV battle, but this was completely unplanned. He rode with it, knowing he wasn't supposed to power out, he was supposed to look weak. Maybe they were hurrying Ryback off stage? That would make sense.

Then Roman was leaping into the ring, powering down on Harper and Rowin, coming to his defense and then one of the real security guards, not the fake ones that guarded Seth, was grabbing his leg and pulling him out of the ring. Ryback was still standing there, looking dazed, which told Dean that Ryback wasn't the reason for the SAGD, it was him.

Trying to be as discrete as possible, the security guard put his arm around Dean "Look hurt!" he hissed into his ear, "Let me help you." Dean nodded and leaned into the man, limping a bit and letting him lead him off and wondering what the hell was going on.

He was barely back stage when Hunter was rushing over to him with a cell phone, Stephanie beside him and the both of them were looking worried. Seth was even with them, biting his lip, looking of all things, _scared._ Dean almost wanted to ask him what the hell had _him_ all worried.

Hunter handed him the phone. "It's for you," he said, his voice both grave and anxious. "It's the West Virginia State police."

Dean stared at him, stared at the phone, feeling like his world was instantly spinning out of control. The state police never called unless it was bad. Never called unless... He ripped the phone out of Triple H's hand and put it up to his ear. "Hello?" he felt his heart thudding in his chest, suddenly more scared than he had ever been in his life.

"Is this Dean Ambrose?" A calm male voice said into the phone.

"Yes, what's wrong?" Dean snapped. His brain started sending up a chant into his head, like an appeal to a primitive God, a god that could be appeased with the right amount of chanting and prayer. _Please let Cinnamon and Neil be all right, please let Cinnamon and Neil be all right,__ Please-let-Cinnamon-and-Neil-be-all-right, __ PleaseletCinnamonandNeilbeallright,_ each sentence getting faster and louder in his head with every repetition.

"My name is Officer Jason Stokes," the calm voice said, "According to Ms. Cinnamon Nolan, Neil Nolan is your son? And you only recently became aware of this?"

"_Y__es__!"_ Dean roared into the phone. But his brain caught that they had spoken to Cinnamon, so she must be alive at least. But why were they asking about Neil?

If Officer Stokes was startled by Dean's roaring, he didn't let it show. "Mr. Ambrose, your son is missing. He was last seen this afternoon, about 10:00 am, leaving his friend, Cory Tanner's house, and he never returned home."

Dean felt the room spinning quickly, making his stomach do flip flops, as if he might vomit and pass out in one motion. But his brain continued to chant at him, this time dropping Cinnamon's name. _PleaseletNeilbeallright, pleaseletNeilbeallright._"Okay," he forced himself to say, trying to encourage Stokes to tell him the whole story before he lost his mind.

"Usually, in these cases, the non custodial parent is the first suspect," Stokes continued.

"Wait!" Dean interrupted. "Are you saying my son was _kidnapped?_ Has there been a demand for ransom?" _If there has, I will get every cent, _Dean thought._ I will rob a motherfucking bank to get that money__ if I have to__. And once Neil is safely back? I will find whoever took him and kill them, slowly and painfully. _

"No, there's been no ransom demand," Stokes assured him. "But when a child goes missing, we have to look at every avenue and when a child has two parents, but only one has complete custody, that's usually where we start. Cinnamon assured us that you wouldn't take Neil without her knowing, but we had to check into that. But your boss assures us that between himself and others, your whereabouts can be accounted for, pretty much every moment since Neil went missing."

"Yeah," Dean snapped, unable to stop. He didn't like this, finding things out in bits and pieces, he wanted to know everything, the entire story, right now, he wanted to pull the top of Stokes's skull off, grab his brain, and absorb all the knowledge of this situation right from his brain like a sponge. "My schedule is pretty heavily documented and I've been in Newark since we arrived this morning."

"That's what your boss tells me," Stokes said, his voice still irritatingly calm. "Mr. Ambrose, we've got all available people out looking for your son, I know you must be worried."

"Ya _think?_" Dean growled. "What information do you need from me?" Hardly aware that he was doing it, Dean started pacing around backstage, alternating between running his fingers through his hair, or tapping them against the opposite shoulder.

"Do you have any enemies that might have gone after your son?" Stokes asked. "According to Ms. Nolan, very few people even know Neil is your son, but is there anyone you know that would take Neil as a way to get back at you? You are a celebrity wrestler, are there any fans who have threatened or concerned you in the past?"

Dean noted with a bitter amusement that normally would have had him laughing, that Stokes's pronounced wrestler as "rastler'." "No," he barked. _ Stop it,_ his brain tried to tell him. _ Yelling at this man will not make him more cooperative._ "There aren't even a half dozen folks who know Neil is my son. At least on my side of things. I can't answer for her side, but if she says no, then no. Why do you suspect kidnapping?" He was dimly aware of Roman coming back stage, having finished the conflict in the arena while Dean was talking to Jason Stokes, the man who, as far as Dean was concerned, was _way_ too stingy in telling Dean what he wanted to know.

"We don't have a solid reason," Jason admitted. "Especially now that I'm talking to you. However, that doesn't rule out the possibility that Neil was abducted by someone who has no clue he's related to you." What he didn't say, but Dean could hear just in the tone of his voice was, _He's a cute little boy, someone might have snatched him because cute little boys are a lot of fun to certain types of people. Of course, these aren't the type of people to return him in good shape__, if they return them at all._

There was activity going on all around him, but Dean was hardly aware of it. Stephanie, Hunter, and Seth were forming a protective cluster around him, keeping the other wrestlers and staff members from getting too close. Roman had disappeared. Dean was aware he was being lead away from the backstage area, down halls. "Is Cinnamon there?" Dean finally demanded. _Cinnamon can explain this,_ his brain told him. _Cinnamon is his mother, when it comes to Neil she's the fucking expert. She's been his mother and father while I've been happily oblivious, so I want to talk to Cinnamon, NOW. _

She's in the living room. I'm outside on the front porch, I didn't want to call you with her around," Stokes said. "But I'll get her."

Dean could hear the sound of Cinnamon's front door being opened and he could hear Stokes telling her that he, Dean was on the phone and then he heard her voice. "Mox?"

She sounded so small, so scared, so heartsick that a lump formed in his throat and he wished more than anything else in the world that he was with her right now, holding her, helping her through this. "Cinn, what's going on?" he asked. Meanwhile, he was still being lead down a hall, a long hall that looked as if it might lead to the parking garage of the arena. Roman was suddenly along side of him, holding both of their bags. Dean had no clue what was going on, but at that moment, he didn't care.

"Oh Mox," she wailed, forgetting that she didn't call him Mox unless they were alone in the bedroom. "He's been gone all day," she cried, not sobbing, but close to it. "I didn't know until this afternoon, because I just thought he was still at Cory's, but when I finally called to see when he was coming home, they said he left Cory's house at ten this morning, headed_ home_."

"Why wasn't he in school?" Dean asked, bewildered. "Aren't kids supposed to be in school this time of year?"

"In service day," Cinnamon explained, even though that really didn't explain anything to Dean. "He didn't have school.

"Have you looked for him?" Dean asked, and the moment the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to hit himself. _No, you fucking idiot,_ his brain yelled at him, _She's been making cookies and updating her facebook all day. Of fucking __**course**__ she's been looking for him. Didn't Stokes even say they had a lot of folks looking? _ "I'm sorry, forget I said that," he muttered.

"'S'okay," she said, sniffling hard. Dean could see her face in his mind, her eyes red and swollen, her nose all red and blotchy, shiny under it with snot. Yeah, Cinnamon was not the most attractive woman when she was crying, but oh god, he wanted to be there, to hold her, to assure her with his touch that they would get through this and that Neil would end up fine, because damn it, he _would_ be fine, and in their arms by tomorrow at this time, or earlier."Dean, I'm so scared. They've looked everywhere, the whole neighborhood has been looking. He's just a little boy and it's dark and it's cold outside and he should be _home, in bed!_" the last part was a wail so raw and plaintive that it made his heart hurt, made it feel like someone with the bulk of Mark Henry had just jumped on his chest and was now standing there, just standing on his rib cage, making his heart ache like a rotted tooth.

"Don't worry," he said, even though even he knew the words were useless. Of course she was going to worry. He was worried, two words weren't going to make her stop worrying and if they did, then she was a shit mom. And if Dean knew one thing, it was that Cinnamon was not a shit mom. They were in the parking garage now, and he was being shuffled into a limo. He was barely aware of it as he slid inside and Roman slid in next to him from the other door, the one behind the driver. "I'm coming out there." He saw Roman nodding out of the corner of his eye, rolling down the window and talking to Hunter and Stephanie for a moment, but he didn't hear a word they were saying because he was too busy trying to stop the roaring voice in his head that kept praying, _PleaseletNeilbeallright! _"Something is going on here right now, I think, but I will find a way to get to you."

"You don't have to," Cinnamon said, her voice sounding so tiny and defeated that he was able to choke down his first reaction to the words, which was to scream at her, to tell her that god damn it, Neil was his son, no matter how much trouble they were having relating to each other, he had the right to be involved in this and she wasn't going to stop him. She asked him, no she _told_ him when he found out about Neil that she didn't want to tell Neil he as his father unless Dean was willing to _be_ a father. Well, a father would be there for this, right? But the tones in her voice told him she didn't mean it the way it sounded. She wasn't thinking straight, and that was understandable, because he wasn't either.

"I know I don't _have_ to," he said instead. "I _want_ to. So hang tight. We're in New Jersey, as soon as we hang up, and I figure out why the fuck everyone put me in a limo with Roman, I'm gonna arrange to fly out of here and get to you. You hang tight and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I hope by the time you get here, he's home," she said, sniffling.

"Me too, Cinnshine," he said, using a nickname he once called her, all those years ago when it was her and him and Neil didn't even exist, except perhaps in some of the 'when we get older' games they liked to play. "But, I got to let you go right for now, I've got to find out why I'm in a fucking limo and see if I can figure out how to book a flight with this phone, which I think belongs to my boss. I've never done that shit before. You hang tight, Cinn, hang fucking tight I'm on my way."

"I will, Mox," she whispered. "I love you."

When he hit end, he looked at Roman. "Suppose you tell me why I'm in this limo? With you? Like it's fucking prom night or something?" _Did Cinnamon just say she loved me? _

Roman smiled, but his eyes held an expression of worry for his friend. "We're heading to the private airport. We're taking the corporate jet to West Virginia. Stephanie and Hunter arranged it."

Even though his mind kept screaming the prayer, _PleaseletNeilbeallright,_ he did his best to absorb what Roman was telling him. "Good," He said. "Because I have got to get to Cinnamon and we need to find our son, who will fucking be just fine, because life will _not_ shit on them like it shits on me." He found himself clenching and unclenching his fist, unable to stop himself, then he looked at Roman. "We? You're going with me?"

Roman nodded.

"Shit, this is that bad that Hunter said we could both go?"

Roman shook his head. "No, Hunter said _you_ could go and made the arrangements. Then I _told_ him I was going with you. He's not very happy about that, but I promised I was going to get you there, make sure you were okay and at the first moment I saw you situated, head back as fast as possible."

"And is that what's going to happen?" Dean asked.

"We'll see," Roman said. "I had my fingers crossed."

* * *

><p>There was a part of Dean that fully expected the plane ride and then the drive to Cinnamon's house to be the longest few hours of his life, that he would be losing his mind with the slowness of everything. Instead he went into some numbed out state where time just ceased to exist at all. Just like at the arena, he was only vaguely aware of getting out of the limo, getting on the private jet, strapping in, flying, landing, getting into the rental car with Roman, who insisted on driving. The people on the plane kept asking him if he was all right. A few times they made him answer some dumb questions, simple stuff, and he wasn't sure why they were asking. The private flight attendant insisted on wrapping a blanket around him.<p>

"Why the blanket?" he asked Roman, noting no one was wrapping Roman in a blanket.

"They're worried about your being in shock," Roman explained.

"I'm not in shock, I'm talking."

"It's just a precaution," Roman said. "Don't read too much into it." He reached out and put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

Dean nodded. He knew Roman wanted to talk, no, that wasn't it, Roman wanted _him_ to talk, wanted Dean to talk about this whole thing, this whole Neil being missing, discuss how that made him _feel_. Roman was probably thinking about his daughter, if she went missing and what a mess that would have turned Roman into. Roman would have been tearing this plane apart if it were headed to Florida to find Leah.

But Dean didn't want to talk, talking would be a waste of time, talking would force his mind out of the numb state where time really would start ticking up again, and it would be slow, seconds would become hours and hours would become years. In the state he was now, it felt as if he were standing outside of time, as if time was a river everyone swam in, but he had temporarily found a rock or a tiny island where he could get out of the moving waters and let it flow past him.

* * *

><p>He didn't jump back into the time stream until Roman was pulling the rental car in front of Cinnamon's little house. Then he leaped back into it, and just as if it were a real stream, real and full of cold water, Dean felt a shiver go through him. With the starting of time, came the worry and the prayermantra that had never stopped got louder. _PleaseletNeilbeallright_. There were two police cars in the driveway, which is why Roman had to park on the street.

Dean was leaping out before the car had come to a complete stop. He vaguely heard Roman shouting a warning, but he ignored it, managing to slam the door shut and heading for the house. When he got to the door, he didn't even knock, just opened it up and walked inside.

As he shut the door behind him, he saw Cinnamon, who had clearly been pacing the floor looking at him. "Mox," she said, her voice a whisper. She looked just as horrible as he knew she would, her eyes so puffy she could barely see out of them, her hair a mess, her nose red and sore looking.

Her living room was tiny. In less than three steps he was over to her, wrapping his arms around her, and she almost fell into them, letting him hold her, not only in his arms, but hold her up, as if only now that he was here, could she allow herself to take that final fall. She had held it together, despite the tears, but now that he was there, she had someone else to help her share the burden. _ I should have been sharing the burden for the last nine years,_ he thought. "Don't worry," he said, kissing her hair. "We will find him."

"I want to look," She half sobbed, half whispered. "They make me stay here in case he comes home, but I want to look. He's my _baby_, why can't I look for my baby?"

He knew exactly what she meant. He was here, but he knew he wasn't going to be sitting in the living room waiting for the kid to show up. If the kid could show up, he would have by now. Something was keeping him from them, something or someone and Dean was going to find out what or who that was. "Don't worry," he said, for the second time in as few minutes, and it still sounded stupid. Of course she was going to worry. "You'll get your chance."

Besides the two police officers, the next door neighbors were there too, the Williams. Dean remembered Cinnamon telling him that they had become surrogate grandparents to Neil. They seemed like a nice couple, probably in their mid '60s and just as worried as Cinnamon was about Neil. "If we go out looking for Neil in a bit, will you stay here just in case he comes home?" Dean asked them.

They both nodded. "You're Neil's father?" Mr. Williams asked, although it was more of a statement than a question. "He's the spit of you."

"Yeah," Dean said, running his fingers through his hair. "I didn't know about him until recently, so we're still getting to know each other."

"He's a good boy," Mrs. Williams said. "And you can get to know him better once he's safely home." Her voice too, held an edge of conviction, as if she believed that if she held firm in her faith that Neil was going to be fine, he would have no choice than to actually _be_ fine. Dean appreciated that.

Somehow, while talking to the Williams's, Roman had knocked on the door and Cinnamon had let him in. Dean looked over and saw him wrapping his arms around Cinnamon, hugging her tightly. They might have gotten off on the wrong foot when they met, but that was forgotten. Right now, they were two parents, one of them in a nightmare, the other able to understand how much of a nightmare it was and Dean was grateful to his friend for having that insight. This parent thing was so new to Dean, he wasn't sure if he really did understand the pain Cinnamon was in. Dean just knew that he was going to find his son if he had to turn the entire state of West Virginia upside down and start shaking it until the kid fell out.

He learned from the police that there was a BOLO issued, but that kidnapping for ransom had been pretty much ruled out. There had been volunteers searching all the open land and woods from the last place where Neil was seen to the house. However, the search team had pretty much packed it in for the night. but plans were to start looking again the minute the sun came up.

"What does his friend say?" Dean said, struggling to keep his voice from sounding too demanding of answers.

"He says that Neil came over to his house around eight thirty, they played together, then around 10:00, Neil said he was going to go home. He watched him ride off on his bicycle and that's the last anyone has seen of him."

Dean nodded. Something was digging at the back of his mind, telling him that something was wrong with that information, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "You guys can leave," he said. "I mean, if you have business still, then by all means, stay as long as you need. But I'm here now and so is my friend and we can take care of things, take care of Cinnamon."

The two officers agreed and left the house, telling Cinnamon they would be by the next day and if Neil did show up, to call immediately.

The moment they left, Dean suddenly knew what was bothering him. "Cinn?" he asked, sitting down next to her. "What time did you find out Neil was missing?"

"Around 2:00 this afternoon," Cinnamon said, her voice bleak. "When I called Cory's house."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Why did you call so late?"

"What do you mean?" Cinnamon asked, looking at him.

"2:00," Dean said. "Why weren't you worried about where Neil was, earlier?" Roman was staring at Dean, frowning, trying to communicate that Dean maybe should reconsider this line of thinking, because it came across like he was being critical of Cinnamon's parenting abilities, but Dean ignored him.

Now it was Cinnamon's brow that furrowed. "Because I just assumed he'd be there until at least lunch," she said. "He left for Cory's about 8:00 in the morning and usually when he's at Cory's, he's there for a few hours. When he left, I assumed he'd probably stay there for lunch. I was a little surprised he didn't call to tell me, but..." she paused and her eyes went wide.

"Yeah," Dean said and looked at Roman, "We're going to Cory's, I need to talk to him." He looked at Cinnamon. "Where does Cory live?"

"Not far, " Cinnamon said. "About two miles west, on Carter road, which is right off this road, third house on the right, the white one. But it's after 2:00 in the morning, Cory is bound to be asleep."

Dean shrugged. "So? He's going to wake up. In the meantime, you gather up whatever you think we need to go looking for him. Because when I get back, hopefully, I'll have more information and maybe we can figure out where he went."

She hesitated and he knew part of her was thinking she should object, she should have him think things through more carefully before he just went charging off, but she was so tired and so mentally and physically exhausted with all that had gone down that she could only nod.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Dean said. He looked at Roman, "You'll drive me, because I know you don't trust me to drive right now."

Roman hesitated too, but then nodded and followed Dean out the door.

_End of Part Four_

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><p><span><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>** While I do know that announcers and refs often use visual and audio codes to warn wrestlers of timing and other changes, I have no idea if they have anything like the SAGD, that comes purely from my own imagination. But I hope it wasn't too far fetched to picture what happened. If I'm going way off base, sorry. It's just a story, I'm not a wrestling manager/worker so hey, I will make mistakes. **

**Special Thanks to:**

**Nancy:**** Well, I think he listened to Roman, but right now he's got some other issues to think about... like finding his son. Thanks for the review****, I really appreciate the support. **

**Just A Reader:**** Yeah, poor Dean is/was trying way too hard. **** And thank you. I don't like Lesnar. I used to be indifferent, but now I'm just irritated by him. Why is he allowed to be the champion and doesn't have to defend it when Daniel Bryan gets stripped of the championship because he can't defend it? With Daniel, he couldn't defend it. With Brock, he just doesn't want to. And the WWE can say until they're blue in the face that "having him not defend the belt makes the belt more prestigious, but that comes across like saying, "And we're only going to hold the Superbowl once every two years. It'll make it more special when we do have it." No, it will be boring. The Champion is the star of the show, Brock is the "very special guest star." It's not fair to give the "very special guest star" the star of the whole show status and then expect the supporting cast to do all the work so the star can hide in his fortress and stare at his belt all day. **

**Imma Guest: ****Yes, get an account, then I can send these responses directly into your inbox. I actually did read somewhere that Joe Anoa'i's family had taken in Jonathan Good, so I decided that at least in my world, Roman Reigns's family would do the same for Dean Ambrose. At this point I don't plan on writing a story about that, but I'll never say never. If the idea won't leave me alone, I'll tackle it. Yes, Roman is right, they do need to spend time together. And, Dean is very, ****_very_ lucky Jessica looks at him as a favorite brother in law, because otherwise, Dean might find himself not being invited over to the Reigns household as often. As for Cinnamon? I think it works even better because she isn't playing a game. Do I think she would love it if Dean said, "I can't be with anyone but you, I love you!" Of course she would. But she won't push him. He has to do it totally of his own free will. So, she protects her heart by saying, "I don't want to hear about it," but she won't stop him. And yes, I hope Dean someday has a family of his own, too. **

**To everyone else who reviewed: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I had a few rough spots in this one, and it was your reviews that got me through it. Those nights when my S/O and my best friend were down in our living room watching the WWE Network and having a fun time, while I stayed in my office trying to write? Worth it. Every time my mailbox pings and tells me I have a review for my stories, it makes me feel a little better about missing the good time going on below me.**

**If you've been following and not reviewing, _please_ consider it. Writing can be a lonely business. Yes, it can be a compulsion, but when the brain gets blocked and the muse turns her back on you and won't help, it's no fun at all. **

**Encouragement is what helps break the block. Encouragement feeds the ego and the muse. Without reviews, writing becomes pointless. Reviews are the only "payment" I have to tell me if my writing is good or bad. Even unfavorable / critical reviews can be inspirational, because the can help me improve. And sure, I crave long winded reviews where people compliment me on my spectacular use of vowels or praise me for how well I portray the characters, but even a simple, "Liked it," is enough to help keep me going. So, won't you consider it? I know, I know, I'm begging here, but I don't know what else to do. I get a lot of people following and favoring this story that have never left a review. I can't force you, of course, but I'd love it if you did.**

**Okay, I'm off the soapbox now. Until next time, take care of yourselves. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, and Roman Reigns, are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**

**Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Run in the Night<br>**_Part Five_

Roman insisted on driving to Cory's house and Dean didn't protest. The directions Cinnamon gave them were perfect and it wasn't long at all before they were pulling up in front of a white house, this one a small, cape cod style. Trim bushes lining the walk ways gave the place a welcoming feeling. Dean didn't care if it had been surrounded by an electrified fence and guard dogs, he was getting inside.

When they parked the car in the driveway, he was out the door while Roman was still unbuckling his seat belt. Roman didn't manage to catch up to him until Dean was hitting the doorbell. And then hitting it again, and again, and again, and again until a plump woman with long dark hair, wrapped in an old ratty blue bathrobe opened the door, looking upset. "Yes?" she asked, staring at him.

"I'm Dean Ambrose," Dean said, "Your son is Cory right?" He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes and continued. "If you can't tell by looking at me, I am Neil Nolan's father and I need to talk to your son."

"Mr. Ambrose, I am so sorry about Neil," the woman said, her voice instantly becoming softer, more sympathetic. "Cory is just heartsick over this, but the police already talked to him and he _just_ got to bed about an hour ago."

"Wake him up," Dean said, and it was not a request, it was an order.

"Dean," Roman put his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean pushed it off.

"He's had enough stress today," the woman said, looking firm. "And as I said, the police talked to him and he gave them all the information he had. I was just able to get him to go to sleep, I don't want to wake him."

"Then I will," Dean said, and moved as if he would push the woman aside and barge into the house. "I've got no problem with waking him up."

"Dean!" Roman's hand came down on his shoulder hard, stopping him from going into the house uninvited and he looked at the woman. "Ma'am, I know your poor boy has been through a hell of a lot, but this is_ really_ important."

"I don't know if this is a smart idea," the woman said, talking to Roman, which was pissing Dean off. "He seems a little out of control."

"Lady, my son is _missing_," Dean growled. When she kept her gaze on Roman, he snapped his fingers in her face. "Eyes to the missing boy's father, not on the stud muffin," his voice was snapping like his fingers were. When she finally looked at him, her expression a mixture of anger and surprise, he continued, "I understand that you want to win Mom of the year and let your kid sleep, but _my_ kid is out there, somewhere in the night, and _his_ mother isn't wrapped up in her fuzzy bathrobe like you are, she's worried sick. She can't sleep because our son is _missing_. If you wake your son up now, what's the worst that's going to happen? Poor baby going to be a little sleepy tomorrow in school? This could be life or death for my kid, so forgive me if your kid's lack of beddy-bye time isn't even registering on my sympathy meter. Now, either you wake your little darling up, or I'm going to come into that house and find that kid and wake him up myself. Do I make that clear?"

She glared at him, "You can't talk to me like that!"

"Yes, I can, I just did," Dean growled. "Now get the kid, or I barge into your house and find him myself!"

"Dean!" Roman's voice was sharp and he clamped his hand even tighter on Dean's shoulder. "I know you're upset, but be cool, bro." He turned his attention to Cory's mom again, "Ma'am, I know you're worried, but this very well _could_ be a matter of life and death. Please, I know this is rough, but please, _please_, wake your son up and let Dean talk to him. We won't be long, and if your son is a big wrestling fan, like Neil is, he'll probably be thrilled to meet us."

The woman hesitated, looking from Dean to Roman. "He does like wrestling," she said, her voice hesitant.

"Awesome, we'll sign some fucking autographs for him," Dean snarled. "As soon as _my_ son is safely in his bed, we'll sign autographs, we'll dress up in Shield costumes and he can pretend to be Seth again and wave his fist with us. Lady, I will help pay for his college education, get him a motherfucking pony, buy him his first whore, whatever, if you just go and get him, _right. fucking. **now.**" _Then, much to his horror and shock, he felt his eyes filling with hot angry tears, as much of frustration as of fear. He kept them from spilling, but he knew this woman saw them.

Cory's mom hesitated, then opened the door a little wider. "I don't want him coming out there, come inside."

Dean walked in, barging right past her. There was a narrow staircase that lead upstairs. "Is that where your kid sleeps?" he asked, heading for it.

Roman put his hand on Dean's shoulder again and pulled him back. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, he's worried." To Dean he said, "Chill, bro. Let her get the kid." He looked back at the mom. "Again, we're sorry about the intrusion, but this is _very_ important."

"I don't understand why, he told the police everything he knew, but if it would make him feel better..." she hesitated, then headed up the stairs.

"Dean, stop it!" Roman hissed when she was gone. "She's going to call the cops on you instead of getting the kid if you're not careful."

"I don't give a fuck," Dean said, "Cops can't teleport here and by the time they get here, I'll have gotten my information and left."

"Yeah? What about the kid? Do you think he's going to be so eager to talk to a deranged lunatic?"

Dean stared at Roman, his expression, hard. "He will talk to me, if he knows what's good for him. He gives me the information I need, and everything will be fine. We'll give him autographs, I'll get him some Dean Ambrose T-shirts, hell, I'll even get him some Seth Rollins T-shirts if he wants them. _ And_ the whores, _and _the pony. I'll send over a whore riding _on_ a pony, wearing a Seth Rollin's T-shirt if he wants. He just has to give me what_ I _want, first."

"Jesus, Dean, keep your voice down!" Roman hissed into his ear. "Do you want his mother hearing about how you're going to buy him a whore? The kid is nine!"

"Maybe he's mature for his age."

Both men stopped talking as the sound of footsteps on the stairs could be heard, along with a child's high voice, "I told the police everything, Mom."

"I know," Cory's mom said. "But these gentlemen have just a couple more things they want to ask you. Just answer them and they'll leave."

A tousled head appeared over the banister, dark hair and eyes filled with sleep. But when they saw Dean and Roman, they widened, looking much more awake. "Wow!" Cory said, disbelief at what he was saying registering in his voice. "He was right!"

_Now we're getting somewhere_, Dean thought. "Oh?" he tried to keep his voice casual. "What do you mean he was right?"

Cory jumped the last few stairs, down to the landing, and came into the living room, looking more awake, but still dazed as if he couldn't believe who was in his house. "Neil," Cory said. "He said you were his father!"

"When?" Dean asked. The boy's mother had finished walking down the stairs and was in the living room too, but she barely registered on Dean's radar, he was focused on the boy.

"Today," Cory said. He was wearing black pajamas, the top had "These are my Ninjamas" on it and had a silk screen design that made it look like there was a belt with a set of nunchaku tucked into them. Cory started pulling on the bottom of his pajama top, practically hopping from one foot to the other in excitement. "He's been kinda dicky on and off for awhile and I asked him about it today."

"Dicky?" Dean asked, his nostrils flaring. Who the hell was this little brat to say his son was being 'dicky?' And what did he mean by 'dicky' anyway? Dickish? Even worse. Neil was a good kid, he was _not_ dickish, it didn't matter what the little Ninjawannabe thought.

"Yeah, you know, one minute he's okay, the next he's almost a dick. If he wasn't my best friend, I'd say he was being a dick, but because he's my best friend, it's _almost_ a dick." Cory shrugged, then looked worried. "But he's gone now. Are you going to find him?"

"I'm going to do my best," Dean said, calming down a just a little, now that the kid was showing concern. "So, what happened today?"

"I asked him why he was being such a dick," Cory said, alternating between looking at his mother, who did not look please at this language and at Dean. "Mom, I'm sorry, but he _was_ being a dick."

"And what did he say?" Dean asked, trying not to grit his teeth. He could feel Roman putting his hand on his shoulder, a clear warning to keep cool, keep the anger in check.

"He said he was tired of having a secret," Cory said. "So, I asked him what it was an' he said that his father was Dean Ambrose." He stared at Dean, openly, but did not add to this.

"And what did you do when he told you?" Dean asked, wanting to smack the kid. Between Cory and Stokes, he was getting awful tired of people being so stingy sharing important information. A tiny part of his mind fantasized about grabbing this kid by the throat and shaking him, until the kid spilled everything.

"At first I thought he was kidding," Cory said, "Because, like, everyone knows he thinks you're the best wrestler in the world and he's always so happy when people tell him he looks like you. I mean, at Halloween, anyone who watched wrestling said over and over again he looked just like you, and he'd get all puffy and he'd swagger like he was the best. Sam an' I worked hard too, to be good Seth's and Roman's, but no, all anyone could do was talk about Neil Dean. Neil Dean was soooo convincing, Neil Dean was-"

"Get back to today!" Dean said, and this time his teeth were gritted and he was clenching and unclenching his fists, because it was cold outside and his son had been missing and they didn't have time for games.

"You don't have to yell at him," Cory's mom snapped.

"He doesn't have to give me the entire history of their friendship to answer a question!" Dean fired right back and then turned his attention back to Cory. "So, he told you I was his father, and at first you didn't believe him. What happened then?"

"I didn't tell him at first, I thought he was trying to fool me," Cory said, "But he was going on and on about how it should have been awesome having you for a dad, but it wasn't so awesome. That he wasn't good enough for you, that you thought he should get better grades, which is stupid, because he gets really good grades, all his teachers says so. And he gets to go to the advanced math with the older kids. He's saying that he shouldn't be your son, that you weren't supposed to have a son, that his mom didn't want you to have a son, all this stupid stuff."

Cinnamon's voice came into Dean's head. _I told him that I didn't believe his father was ready to handle the responsibility of being a father and that's why I never contacted him to tell him__._ It was the type of thing Cinnamon would say, trying to make sure Neil understood that it wasn't Dean's fault. But it could be taken wrong, someone could take it to mean that Dean shouldn't have a son, and having one was a bad thing for _Dean_. And Dean would have been his entire year's salary and then some, that at least part of Neil thought that's what it meant, that it was best for Dean not to have Neil, not for Neil not to have Dean. _I have to fix that_, he thought. _As soon as he's back home safe__, I have to fix that__._

"Okay," Roman spoke up, in that awesomely soft-spoken, yet serious way of his, that made you listen, even strain to listen, because anything said in that voice, had to be very, _very_, important. "So Neil was ranting a bit?"

"Yeah, that's a good word!" Cory nodded, double confirming. "He was ranting!"

"And you said-?" Roman let his voice trail off, to encourage the kid to finish.

"I said he was full of sh-" he started, then quickly corrected himself, "I said he was full of _poop_. That Dean Ambrose wasn't his father." He looked at Dean and yelped defensively, "I didn't know!"

"Yeah, I get that," Dean said. trying to keep his temper in check. "Then what?"

Cory shifted around a bit, looking from Roman, to Dean, to his mom and to the floor. "He said he wasn't full of shi-_poop_, an' I.. I told him you couldn't be his father, because if you were, you'd be visiting an' it would say so on the internet, because it would be big news, so he needed to prove it. And he said I could call his mom and ask her, but-" he stopped again.

"But what?" Dean asked.

"-But I said his mom would probably lie for him, because she wouldn't want everyone to think he was mad-whack." Cory refused to look at any of them when he said this, but kept his eyes firmly on the floor, his voice barely audible.

"Okay," Dean said, when the kid showed no signs of continuing. "So you accused him of being crazy." _Something he may already worry about, if he doesn't just __**look**__ like me_, Dean thought, but didn't say. "So, what happened then?"

"He got mad," Cory said, shrugging. "He got really mad and he told me he should have known I wouldn't believe him, because no one else would either. And I said that was because he was full of poop. Then he said he was going home."

Dean's eyes fixed on him. "Really? Did he really say he was going home? Nothing else?"

Cory frowned, obviously thinking hard. "No, he said he was..." He closed his eyes. "He said he had to be alone," Cory said. "That he needed to think. I _thought_ he was just going home. He left on his bike and I haven't see him. Then the cops came and I just told them that he went home."

_Jackpot! _ Dean thought, but he frowned. "Why didn't you tell the cops about the fight?" he almost demanded.

Cory stared at him, "Because I thought that if the police thought Neil was a crazy liar, they wouldn't look for him as hard. They wouldn't worry about rescuing a crazy liar as much as they would a regular kid."

"Thank you, Cory, for telling us the truth," Roman said quickly, before Dean could say another word. "I think we're all set here, now, right?" He looked at Dean, who nodded. "Thank you!" he said to Cory's mother.

"Can I get your autograph?" Cory asked,

"Sure, we'll drop by as soon as we can with those. Maybe even a T-shirt too." While Roman spoke, he was leading Dean out the door as quickly as possible having a feeling that if he didn't, Dean was going to smack the kid, and that would not be good at all.

When they were back in the car and getting ready to leave, Roman turned to Dean. "Did Cory give you the answers you needed?"

Dean nodded. "At least I hope so. We've got to get back and talk to Cinnamon." He didn't dare speak what he was thinking out loud, because for some reason, he thought that might jinx it. Not until he talked to Cinnamon and confirmed something. But Neil's voice was running through his head. _"There's an old farm not too far away from here. I go there a lot. There's a stone wall, I like to sit on it and think so I call it my thinking spot."_ It didn't answer why he wasn't home, but he'd bet money it would at least give them a starting point.

_End of Part 5_

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><p><span><strong>Special Thanks to: <strong>

**Nancy:**** Thank you. I just figure that is about the worst nightmare a parent can have. It also shows how much Dean is thinking like a father, even if he feels he sucks at the job. As for updates? I am at the mercy of Betagirl, but she's usually pretty good at getting stuff back to me. **

**Just A Reader:**** Oh yes, if I didn't portray it well enough, I'm sorry, but yes, Dean and Cinnamon are terrified and they're both probably exhausted too. Brock Lesnar, yeah, there are a billion better ways to handle the WHC than Brock Lesnar. The biggest irony to me was that they unified the belts, then promptly gave them to a guy who takes it home. If they had two belts still, they would at least have ONE belt that could be defended. I'm hearing more and more people that are getting upset with this, the only ones who like it are the dye in the wool Lesnar fans. I just cannot get over the whole idea of Daniel Bryan had to be stripped because "The WWE Universe needs a fighting champion" they give Cena the title for two weeks and then wham, we get a champion that doesn't want to fight. WTF? **

**Imma Guest:**** First, are you the same person as "Imma Reader?" or are you two different people? But, nope, this is not what Roman had in mind at all when he suggested Dean go to West Virginia. And yes, Dean does have ideas. I'm sure a lot of folks had already figured out about the Thinking Spot. But, at this point it's just a place to start with, one that might not have been checked. We'll find out more in the next chapter. As for the compliments to my writing, *blush* Thank you. I try. I look at dialog as the meat of most stories. Dialog and narration are the protein and starch of the story. Things like frowning, lip biting, brushing hair out of the eyes, all those things are spices. **

**To everyone who's reviewed this story? Thank you so much. It means a lot to me. And if you haven't reviewed yet, why not give it a try? I know I beg a lot, but I speak the truth, the reviews are a what keep me going. **

**Willow.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**

**Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Run in the Night<br>**_Part Six_

When they got back to Cinnamon's house, it was close to 4:00 in the morning, and there was another car in the drive way, a badly beaten up Ford Escort with several bumper stickers on the back, most of them devoted to the indy wrestling companies. Dean wasn't sure if the stickers were to show the owners love of wrestling, or to possibly keep the hatch door from falling off.

"I wonder who that is," Roman asked, as he parked on the street, so he wouldn't block either car.

"Jasper Coleman," Dean said, as he unfastened his seat belt.

"How can you tell?" Roman asked, looking at the car to see if the owners name was on it or something.

"Same fucking car he had back when I was in the indies," Dean said, as he opened his door and jumped out of the car. "That car is older than us. That's an 85."

"And it still _runs?_" Roman asked, amazed. It was obvious the car had been through a lot and it was nothing short of a miracle that it still worked.

Dean nodded. "Jasp knows how to fix that thing. He knows every inch of it." Dean remembered a few times watching him fix the thing in the parking lot of whatever venue they'd performed in. Hell, he'd given Dean a few rides in the thing. "He's probably replaced every single part in that car. I'd be amazed if it has the same Vin number it started with."

"What do you suppose he's doing here?" Roman asked.

"We're about to find out, aren't we?"

* * *

><p>Dean didn't even bother to knock, he walked right inside. There was a tiny part of him that hoped maybe Coleman had somehow found Neil and was bringing him home, but that hope was soon dashed when he saw Coleman sitting on the end of one of the sofas, while Cinnamon sat on the end closest to him on the other, and it was obvious from the look on her face, that Neil was still missing. Jasper was holding her hands, but he stopped when Dean came in.<p>

"Did you find out anything?" Cinnamon asked, a look of hope on her face.

"Yeah," Dean nodded and looked at Jasper. "Why are you here?"

"She's a good friend of mine, and I look at that kid as a surrogate nephew," Jasper said. "I was up in Pennsylvania talking to some folks at ROH. She had texted me earlier to tell me about the kid, but I wasn't able to get back until now. How you doing, you crazy SOB?"

"I've been better," Dean said, "I'll be just _awesome_ as soon as my kid is safe in his bed."

"Yeah," Jasper agreed, biting his lip. "Cinn was telling me you were going to question his best friend."

"What did you find out?" Cinnamon demanded.

"Cinnamon, do you know about Neil's thinking spot?" Dean asked.

Cinnamon frowned. "He goes to his ring to think, sometimes, why?"

Dean shook his head, "It's a stone wall around an old farmhouse, Does that sound familiar?"

She frowned. "There is an old farm a few miles from here, but Neil isn't supposed to go there, he knows that, he wouldn't..." her voice trailed off.

"He told me he likes to go there and sit on a stone wall," Dean, still standing. Roman was next to him, looking at Jasper with a frown on his face. "He says it's his thinking spot. And today he got in a fight with Cory and told him he needed to be alone and to think. I think that's the type of thing you say before you head to your thinking spot, don't you?"

Cinnamon nodded, jumping to her feet. "I've already gathered up things I thought we'd need to go looking. Let's get a few more. The place has a dilapidated farm house and barn that have been boarded up. I think we should add some some other tools, in case we have to get into the house." As she spoke, she headed into the kitchen, Dean right on her heels.

Just before he was about to go in, Dean turned. "Roman, Jasper, Jasper, Roman. Now that introductions are over, we're going to gather some stuff and then the four of us are going to go and find the kid." Without waiting for a response, he turned and went into the kitchen behind Cinnamon.

* * *

><p>Once Dean was out of the room, Roman nodded to Jasper. "Nice to meet you," he said, but his tone didn't sound quite as sincere as his words. Jasper had been holding onto Cinnamon's hands and even though that was none of his business, he knew how Dean felt about Cinnamon and knew that Cinnamon had left himself, Seth, and Dean with the impression there was no one in her life before Dean walked back into it, no one in a sexual way. So, what role did Jasper play in her life? The guy looked a little bit like Dean. Similar colored hair, eyes, even build. And while no one would ever mistake them for twins it wouldn't be too hard to imagine they were cousins, or perhaps even brothers.<p>

"Wow, it's nice to meet you, too," Jasper said, motioning to the couch Cinnamon had vacated. Roman went over and sat down a little stiffly and further away from where Cinnamon had sat, father away from Jasper. "I've seen you on the WWE. Good job, getting in without having to do the indies for half your career."

Roman stiffened, but shrugged too, trying to appear casual. A lot of people gave Roman a fair amount of grief for not having "paid his dues" in the indies, and he got a little sick of it. He understood where these guys were coming from, and he had the utmost respect for what they had done, the time they had put in, but he also knew, that if any of them had been given the same chances he had, they would have taken it in a heartbeat. So, he didn't appreciate being taken to task for it. "I'm lucky," he said. "I do have connections." He wasn't going to lie, he was grateful for his connections.

"Yeah, family blood and being half fucking Samoan," Jasper said with a small laugh, "You lucky bastard. I ain't met a promoter yet that didn't get a huge boner for a Samoan wrestler. Add to that your family tree and yeah, the WWE would have been stupid not to snatch you up faster than a man fresh out of prison snatches his first bit of pussy."

There was nothing but admiration in Jasper's tone and Roman found himself relaxing, just a slight bit, but still wondering about all this hand holding he saw earlier. "How do you know Cinnamon?" he asked.

"I met Cinn a couple times back when she and Jon Mox were first dating," Jasper admitted. "She always stood out from the rats and the other girls and wives the guys hung with, but she was always Mox's girl and we respected that. Then, when she moved down here and got involved with being the paramedic for the WVW, she and I became good friends." He paused for a moment, looking puzzled, then gave a snort of laughter. "You think because I was holding her hands when you came in that maybe... aw, shit man, she's like a_ sister_ to me!"

"Do you always hold your sisters hands?" Roman asked.

"If their kid ever went missing and they needed comfort, you bet your ass I would," Jasper said firmly. "But, Dude, don't worry. Yeah, Cinn is pretty enough and she's nice and if she gave me the signal, I'd bend her over the couch and get her to call me daddy, but that's _never_ going to happen. She and I tried the dating thing a couple times, but on the second date, I kissed her. And, well, you ever kiss a girl and just feel in that one kiss that she has absolutely no interest in you at all?"

"No," Roman said.

Jasper looked surprised, then snorted. "Yeah, okay, I look at you and point taken. But that's how it was with Cinnamon and I. No spark on her part, no interest. But, I like her and I like the kid, so we stayed friends."

Roman nodded, feeling slightly sheepish for being so upset with Jasper. Dean was a big boy, and could take care of himself, but there were times when Roman felt as if Dean was a kid brother and needed him to look out for him. He also knew that if Dean knew he felt that way, he would probably gag.

"You two playing nice?" Dean said, coming back into the living room.

"Yeah, we're just chatting," Jasper said.

"Well, good, party is over, we've got stuff gathered, we are going on a mission to find my son."

"Our son," Cinnamon said, coming out behind him, slipping a backpack on over her jacket.

"Yes," Dean agreed, looking at her, "Our son."

* * *

><p>The Williams's had gone back home when Jasper had arrived, but they hadn't gone to sleep, so it was an easy matter to get them to come back to Cinnamon's just in case Neil showed up. Since the rental car was an SUV it made sense to use that rather than Cinnamon's or Jasper's hatchbacks. "Do you know how to find this place?" Roman asked Cinnamon.<p>

She nodded.

"Are you able to drive?"

She nodded again. Roman studied her for a moment. She was upset, but there was a calm determination radiating from her too, as if she had her hysterics, but now that she was involved in actually doing something to find Neil, she was fine. He tossed her the keys. "You drive, then."

* * *

><p>It didn't take long to get to the old farm, and the four people were silent the entire trip. The place had become horribly overgrown over the years and there was a long dirt driveway that lead up to the abandoned house. Cinnamon drove up slowly, being careful of the car. Dean could tell that part of her wanted to just stomp on the gas and drive like a bat out of hell, but she was collected enough to know that ruining the car wasn't going to bring Neil back and wouldn't make searching for him any faster.<p>

When they got to the farmhouse, she stopped the car. They piled out and went around to the back, opening the hatch. "I've got flashlights and air horns for everyone," Cinnamon said, passing out lantern style flashlights and the air horns, which were operated using canned air. "One long blast means you found him, and everyone come running. Two short blasts means you yourself are in trouble and need help. Repeat the blasts ever few seconds so we can track you." She looked at the other things. "We need to decide who's going where. Someone should cover the house, someone else the barn, and the other two the land. We meet back here in an hour, no matter what."

"Searching the house or barn won't take long," Jasper said.

Cinnamon shook her head. "If he's badly hurt or unconscious, he won't be able to cry out for help," she said. "So whoever does those places needs to check out every corner, ever crevice. The barn might take less time, so whoever has the barn, when they finish up, go to the house and help that person."

"I'll take the house," Roman volunteered.

"I'll take the barn," Jasper said.

"I want the area around the wall in the front," Dean said. He had a feeling he couldn't shake that Neil's thinking spot was as close to the road as he could get. Neil wasn't stupid, he certainly realized that his mother didn't want him coming here and no doubt Cinnamon had told him of the dangers of playing around the place. Dean figured Neil would stick close to the road, to where it was probably the safest. _Split the difference. Still breaking the rules, but hopefully not endangering himself. But he was really upset today, so he probably wasn't being as careful as he should be. Please-let-Neil-be-all-right,_ he thought and realized that mantra had never completely stopped. Even while talking to Cory, when helping Cinnamon gather up the things they might need, part of his mind would not stop. _Please-let-Neil-be-all-right._

Cinnamon nodded. "I'll take the back area." She started handing out equipment. She gave Roman an ax, Jasper a hatchet. She passed out various other things too. All of them got long coils of rope, which they slung over their shoulders.

"Damn, you have a lot of rope, woman!" Jasper joked.

Cinnamon shrugged. "Rope is one of the greatest inventions of mankind. Remind me to someday tell you all the awesome things you can do with rope. Not right now, right now we've got to find my kid." And Dean admired her, because now that she was actually doing something, not just sitting around worrying, she had it together. Cinnamon always came across as a sweet girl, but under that sugar was an awful lot of steel.

"Can I add one more signal to the air horns?" Dean asked. All eyes turned on him. "Three short blasts means something was found to indicate he's been here. Like if we find his bike or a jacket or something. I mean, I don't know what jacket he was wearing when he left, but if I see a kid's jacket or bike, I'll assume it's his."

Cinnamon nodded. "That makes sense. His bike is a BMX, brand name is Mongoose and it's black. He was wearing a denim jacket when he left the house this morning and a Mountaineers baseball cap, those are things he might have taken off, because it's still pretty warm around here during the day."

* * *

><p>When equipment was distributed, they all went in their separate directions, Dean immediately headed back down the long drivewaydirt road, heading to the stone wall. When he got to where the wall started, he saw something leaning on it, and went over to check.

It was a boys bike.

The flashlight/lanterns Cinnamon had given all of them to use were good ones with strong LED lights. He shone it on the bike, noticing two things quickly. It was black, and the words "Mongoose" were printed on it in white lettering. He raised the air horn into the air and gave three short blasts. A feeling he couldn't quite define came over him. The closest he could come to describing it was "dreaded relief." The relief came from seeing the bike, knowing that Neil had indeed come to this spot, that they were doing the right thing looking here. The dread was not knowing why he hadn't come home. No matter how upset Neil was at Cory, and Dean couldn't really blame the kid, Cory seemed like he had the potential to be a little shit, Neil didn't seem like the type that would stay away this long over that. No, Dean didn't know him as well as he should know him, but Neil just never seemed like the type to worry his mother this much. If he wasn't home yet, it was because he was unable to get there. So, what had happened?

_Please-let-Neil-be-all-right, Please-let-Neil-be-all-right!_

His silent prayer was all fine and good, but if Neil was nearby, he wouldn't be able to read his mind, so he started calling out too. "Neil! Neil!" He would call out, then stop and listen very carefully, then repeat, trying to come up with a pattern, so if Neil did hear him, Neil would know when he could shout back and was most likely to be heard.

Dean started walking along the wall, picking his way through the brush and brambles that had taken over. He realized he was still wearing his ring gear, jeans, wife beater and a hoodie. He had never changed after he was brought off stage. _Thank god my ring gear is street clothes,_ he thought, faintly amused. _I'd hate to be tromping around in this crap wearing Speedos. _

"Neil! Neil!" Pause. _Please-let-Neil-be-all-right, Please-let-Neil-be-all-right__!_

He followed the stone wall to where it cornered the property and was about to turn with it, and follow the stone wall up towards the farmhouse, when something occurred to him. He'd been tramping around in long dry grass, When he turned around and shone the light, he realized he'd been trampling it down so parallel to the wall was a fairly clear path. If Neil had started out on the wall, and then left the wall, as signs seemed to point to, he most likely trampled grass and underbrush himself. Dean turned and decided to back track the way he came, but this time, he swept the flashlight in front of him. He had probably ruined the first part of any path Neil might have cut through the brush, but he didn't ruin all of it and he was going to find it.

"Neil! Neil!" Pause. _Please-let-Neil-be-all-right, Please-let-Neil-be-all-right__!_

_Unless someone grabbed him_, a nagging voice in his head reminded him. He tried to squelch that thought, but it kept creeping into his mind. _Careful,_ Dean, he warned himself. _Keep focused._ _Odds are he wasn't taken. This place is in the middle of nowhere and there were no signs that any other car had gone down the dirt road leading to the driveway. Also, someone would have had to follow him from the main road to figure out he'd gone here._

"Neil! Neil!" Pause. _Please-let-Neil-be-all-right, Please-let-Neil-be-all-right__!_

_That's not impossible,_ the darker part of his mind cheerfully reminded him, because that dark part just lived to fuck with his head. _They could have been driving by and seen Neil__ on his bike.__ They could have parked their vehicle on the road and walked up by foot, it isn't that far from the main road to where the wall begins. They could have grabbed Neil and brought him to their vehicle and drove off, leaving the bike. Or, maybe there's some pervert squatting in the farmhouse and they saw Neil and grabbed him. Roman might find his body-_

"Neil! Neil!" Pause._Please-let-Neil-be-all-right, Please-let-Neil-be-all-right__!_

He shut down that part of his mind as fast as he could. He hadn't heard any blasts from the house, and there was no point in buying trouble.

"Neil! Neil!" Pause._Please-let-Neil-be-all-right, Please-let-Neil-be-all-right__!_

Then, as he was getting near the bike, he saw it. Flattened grass, broken twigs, a path much like the one he was making, but this one was heading away from the wall instead of running along side of it. Dean turned and followed the path, calling even louder now, and listening even harder for any response.

"Neil! Neil!" Pause._Please-let-Neil-be-all-right, Please-let-Neil-be-all-right__!_

While the front lawn had probably been a thing of beauty back in the days when this was a working farm, it was now overgrown, choked with weeds, overgrown bushes, and even a fair number of trees. But the path could be followed and Dean followed it.

"Neil! Neil!" Pause._Please-let-Neil-be-all-right, Please-let-Neil-be-all-right__!_

He was sweeping the flashlight in front of him, to follow the path, when he saw something ahead. A lot of ground looked disturbed, leaves and sticks scattered and broken and greenish, rotting wood, but not branches, boards. Why would someone have boards on the ground? Unless the boards were covering something, like a deep hole that someone might fall into?

He hurried over, but still was careful. Yes, there were boards laid down as if covering something. Boards that had been here a very, very, long time, to the point where they had been taken over with moss, covered with leaves and even grass. Someone might have walked right by this and not even seen the wood. Someone might have walked right _over_ it and never realized it was wood. Someone might have stood on it and...

He could see a hole in the middle of it. Broken boards, like something had stood on them and they just fell apart, old rotting wood, unable to hold anymore. He moved closer, being careful, but moving as quickly as he could, until he was as close to the hole as he dared. "Neil!" he screamed. "Neil!" _He's got to be down there, I'm sure of it, but what if he's unconscious? What if he's dead? Oh please, no, not dead, not dead. _"_**NEIL!**_"

"Help!"

The voice could barely be heard above the sound of the breeze stirring the leaves and underbrush, but Dean _did _hear it. _"__**NEIL!**__"_ He screamed again.

"Yes!" The voice sounded weak, scared, as if it was taking everything they had to yell. "Down here!"

Dean started grabbing at the boards, throwing them aside, clearing around the hole, until he could see there was a slightly raised rock ring around the hole itself. _Is this a well?_ Dean thought. _Did my son fall down a__ fucking__ well? _If he hadn't been so terrified and scared for Neil, he might have found this amusing. Kid fell down a well, wasn't that the cliche of all cliches? He'd made jokes about it around R-Truth even. "What happened, R? Did little Jimmy fall down the well?" _I'll never make those jokes again if Neil is okay. I'll never make any jokes about wells or kids or anything, just please, God, let Neil be okay__! I know I'm a shitty Dad, and the kid deserves better, but it's not his fault, please let him be okay._

He knelt down by the ring and shone the flashlight down the well, terrified he was going to see a bloody lump that was once his boy, dying, like Cinnamon's dog had been dying the day he found him in the kitchen with the bone sticking out of his throat. But he forced himself to look.

So far below, looking so tiny, so frail, and so scared was his son. Half sitting up, half lying on the ground. And it didn't take a medical degree to see his leg was bent at an unnatural angle, but Dean did not see copious amounts of blood, and the leg seemed to be the worst thing about him. "Neil, it's me, it's Dean!" he screamed down.

Neil squinted in the light from the lantern beam. "My l-l-leg h-h-hurts," he cried out, and Dean could hear the tears in his voice, the crying he had probably been doing on and off the entire time he was down there. "I c-can't get up. And I'm so c-c-cold!"

"Don't worry, little man," Dean said, although he himself was worried, no, he was _terrified_. "We're going to get you out of there, I promise! Hang on, help is coming. Cover your ears, because this is going to get loud." And with that, he pulled the air horn out of his pocket and started blasting it, one long wail into the night.

End of Part 6

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><p><strong><span>Author's notes<span>: Yes, I'm an ass. I admit it.  
><strong>

**Special thanks to:**

**Nancy:**** I admit, I've used Mox promos a lot to find Dean's voice in these stories, so the last chapter reminding you of them was awesome. And if Mox is the crazy side of Dean, yeah, I have to figure Mox is getting ****really pissed off. Thanks for your review! **

**Imma Guest/Reader:**** Yes, the Ninjammas are real, I saw them online. I don't think they have them in adult sizes though. And yes, Roman was about the only thing holding Dean together. Yup, Neil has been found, but the situation isn't good. **

**Just A Reader: **** Yeah, I don't think Dean was meaning to be funny, but well, he's Dean, it's just part of him. I think Cory's mom will also understand that Dean is just a terrified parent, once she calms down. Of course, if Dean does send over a whore on a pony wearing a Seth Tshirt, Mom might stop being understanding and start looking for blood, but I think Roman will prevent that. :-D **

**Thank you to the others who reviewed, the ones who get their thank you's in their boxes because they're registered with the site. I do appreciate every single review. **

**If you have been reading, and haven't reviewed, I'm going to beg you again. Please? It's the only way I have of knowing if people like my story or not. Otherwise, it's like writing in a vacuum. So, again, please? **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**

**Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Run in the Night<br>**_Part Seven_

As to be expected, it seemed to take forever for the others to arrive. While waiting, Dean tied the lantern to his rope. "Neil, I'm going to lower down a lantern," he called out. "It isn't much, but at least it's some light. Would you like that? Would you like some light?" _ Why the fuck am I babbling? _

"Yes," Neil called up. "I'm c-c-cold, though. And s-s-sleepy."

"Yeah? I'll bet you're cold," Dean said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice as he started gently lowering the lantern. Wasn't sleeping in this situation a really bad idea? Wasn't that what you did before you died when you were in a cold wet place for too long? He wasn't sure, but his mind was telling him under no condition should he let the kid sleep. "Now is not the time to sleep though, okay? You can do all the sleep you want once we get you out of there, okay?" Stay with me, Neil." He blasted his air horn, one long blast. _Waaaaaaaaaaa!_

"O-o-okay."

Dean didn't know if it was his imagination or not, but the kid's voice sounded even weaker than it had when he first got here. _Please, no, don't bring us this far to have it fall apart._ Carefully, he lowered the lantern, praying it wouldn't thud against the stone walls of the hole/well, whatever it was, and break. "Can you reach it, yet?" He blasted the air horn again. _Waaaaaaaa!_ "Sorry about the noise, it's just that I need to signal your mom and your uncle Jasper and uncle Roman where to find us."

"It's t-t-t-oo far," Neil said. "I'm trying to c-c-crawl but-" his voice stopped, replace instead by a cry of pain. "My leg!" he sobbed. "It h-h-hurts!"

"Don't try to move!" Dean called down, alarmed that Neil would move to much and hurt his leg further. "let me," He stood up, blasted the air horn again, then started slowly walking around the hole, closer to where Neil was.

"Got it!" Neil called out and for a moment, sounded stronger, braver, but then fell back into the voice of the frightened child, "G-gimmie a m-m-minute t-to un-t-tie it," he stammered. "My f-f-fingers aren't w-w-working v-v-very w-w-well."

Again, Dean blasted the horn, wishing they'd all show up, so he could stop torturing the kids ears. _Waaaaaaaaaaa! _Don't worry, buddy," Dean said. "Take as long as you need, I'll hold this rope as long as it takes.

"I g-g-g-got it," Neil finally called.

"Great!" Dean enthused, trying to keep Neil's spirits up, and not let him hear the worry, the panic, in his voice. "That's awesome. Gonna blast this stupid horn again." _Waaaaaaaaaaa! What the hell is taking them so long? _"Yeah, I know, the horn is awful, isn't it?"

As he expected, Cinnamon was there first, but Roman and Jasper were right on her heels, the three of them breathing a little hard, obviously having run there. "Neil!" Cinnamon shouted, when she saw Dean. "Where's Neil?" She looked around frantically, as if Dean might be hiding their son behind his back. "You gave the signal that you found Neil!"

"Yeah, he's found," Dean said, making sure none of them got too close to the hole until they were fully aware that there was a hole. The last thing they needed was for someone else to fall in. "But he's fallen in a hole. I think it's an old well or something."

"Oh my god," Cinnamon said and even though he couldn't see her in the dim light, he knew the color had drained from it. "My baby!"

She tried to rush forward, but Dean held her back. "Be careful! We don't need two people down there!"

"Mommy?" Neil's voice carried up the well and into the night, sounding just a little stronger, no doubt because his mother was here.

"I'm here, baby," she took Dean's advice about being careful, but hurried over and knelt down at the top of the well. "Baby, are you okay?"

"N-n-no," Neil said. "I f-f-fell down the w-w-well. I'm n-n-not o-k-k-kay."

"Okay, I'm sorry, stupid question. We're going to get you out of there, baby, you just hang tight, okay?"

"Y-y-yes."

The three men were standing there, two of them uncertain about what they should do. "He's got a broken leg," she said. "I could see that from up here." She fumbled in her back pocket for her cellphone. "I have to call emergency." She pulled it out, and seeing that she had a strong enough signal, she punched in 911.

While she was talking to rescue, Dean looked at Jasper and Roman. "I've got to get down there," He tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice, just to sound calm and determined.

"Are you crazy?" Jasper started, but Dean interrupted him.

"Yeah, I'm crazy. I'm crazy as fuck you know that, Jasp," Dean said, trying to keep his anger in check, but it was building with every word he said, every second he was to be denied what he wanted, "but that is _my_ kid down there, and he's cold, and he's frightened and he's been down there a long fucking time. _I'm going down there!"_

"Don't you think it would be better to wait for rescue?" Roman asked using that calm voice of his, that in this situation, didn't calm Dean, it just pissed him off further.

Dean shook his head. "Way too much time has passed. When the ambulance gets here, I want the kid out of the hole, so they can working on him immediately. C'mon, between the two of you and all the rope we have, lowering me down there will be a cinch. Raising me and the kid will be a cinch. Roman, you spend every free moment at the gym building up your body, let's put it to good use. Same with you, Jasp. You haven't let yourself go to hell in a pizza box. We've got all this rope, let's save my kid!"

Roman and Jasper looked at each other. "Back when I worked with him, he was crazy enough to do something this stupid," Jasper said. "Is he still?"

Roman nodded. "He's also crazy enough to do it himself, so we might as well help him, or we'll have to tie him to a tree."

"Damn straight," Dean growled. "Now help me do this."

"Not so fast," Roman objected. "We're going to jury-rig some type of harness for a safety back up."

"Sounds like it will take too long, how about if I just tie a rope to my belt loop?"

"Because belt loops rip, you moron," Roman said, and even though Dean could barely see his face, he knew Roman was rolling his eyes, because that's just the type of thing Roman would do in this situation. "The kid has been down there for hours, a few more minutes won't make any difference."

"Yes, they will," Dean said, teeth gritted. "Every minute counts."

Jasper looked at Roman, "Do we have to tie him to the tree so we can make a harness?"

"No," Roman said, glaring at Dean. "He'll be good, won't you Dean?"

"Let me guess, if I'm not you won't help me."

"Bingo."

Dean fumed. "Work fast." He turned to the well again, "Don't worry, buddy, help is coming!"

"I ww-w-want m-my M-m-mom," Neil wailed.

_Of course he does_, Dean thought. _Mom's always been there for him._ "She's on the phone with rescue, as soon as she hangs up, she'll talk to you."

"I w-w-wish I was w-w-with M-m-mom," Neil said, which made Dean feel like someone was squeezing his heart. He wasn't jealous that the boy wanted his mother, that was expected. What was bothering him was that it seemed like Neil _only_ wanted his mother. _Will there ever come a day when he wants both his parents? Or should I just give it up?_

By the time Cinnamon had disconnected the call and assured them that rescue was on its way, Roman and Jasper were busy looping rope around his waist, his legs, even across his back and chest. Roman was turning out to be pretty good at making good, sturdy knots. "I worked at a Marina one summer back home," was his explanation.

"Rescue will be here as soon as possible," she said, then frowned as she watched Roman cinching a rope around Dean's waist. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going down," Dean said.

Cinnamon shook her head rapidly. "It's too risky."

"No, it's not," Dean disagreed. "I'm strong, I'm healthy. Roman and Jasper are strong SOB's, we can do this."

"M-m-mom?" Neil's voice carried out of the well.

"Baby, I'm here," Cinnamon leaned over and called down the well, shining her flashlight down as Neil shined his up. "We've called rescue, they're on their way."

"Mom, I'm s-s-sorry," Neil wailed. "I'm s-so s-sorry,"

"It's okay, baby, it's okay," Cinnamon called down, trying to comfort him, "We're here, we're going to get you out of there as soon as we can, okay baby? You just hang tight."

"Have you ever done any spelunking or wall climbing or anything like that?" Roman asked him.

"No," Dean said, then reconsidered. "Well, I have done that rock climbing indoor thing a few times," he admitted. He knew a couple of girls who though the activity great fun. Since both of them were pretty good in the sack, he had gone along with them a few times. Most of it, he had to admit, was spent staying below them, so he could look up and watch their legs and butts as the scaled the wall. But, he had done some climbing too.

"That hole is about five feet in diameter," Roman said. "So, you're going to have to be very careful when you get to the bottom, not to hit Neil. Jasper and I will stop you a couple feet off the ground, so you can get your bearings and figure out how to step, but that one will be in your court."

"Here," Jasper pulled something out of the pockets of his jacket, "Leather gloves. They aren't proper climbing gear, but they'll help protect your hands somewhat, especially if you slide the rope accidentally."

As they were putting him into this makeshift harness, Dean watched and listened as Cinnamon spoke to Neil, leaning over, looking into the well. "I know you're cold, baby," she said, "And we'll get you out as soon as we can." Dean hear the worry in her voice, even though she was trying to cover it up for Neil. "C'mon, let's do something to take our minds off this," she suggested.

"W-what?" Neil's voice was sounding more and more tired, as if now that he knew he had his mother nearby, he could give up.

"We could sing!" Cinnamon suggested as if this was the most brilliant idea she had ever come up with. "C'mon, Neil, sing with me. We used to sing all the time. Remember the old car we had? That old Hyundai that the radio and tape player were broken? We used to sing to entertain each other. Wasn't that fun? C'mon let's do that, It'll help the time to pass."

"W-what...sh-should...we s-s-sing?"

The hesitation coming into Neil's voice only convinced Dean that he had to go down there, the faster the better. If he had heard sirens in the distance, he might have reconsidered, but he heard none. He nodded to Roman and Jasper and started for the edge.

"How about this one?" Cinnamon said, and in a loud voice that carried down the well, started to voice was clear and strong. No, she wasn't by any means a professional, but she could carry a tune and anyone familiar with the song would have known exactly what she was singing. "C'mon, Neil, sing the next verse," she cajoled.

Neil's voice was small, hesitant, but he started to sing the second verse, and he didn't have such a bad voice either, for a kid who was stuck in a well with a broken leg and likely freezing cold:

"That's it!" Cinnamon called, clapping for him. She opened her mouth to start on the next part, then saw Dean and froze. "No."

"Yes," Dean said. "I'm going down there. He's been down there long enough."

"Mox, it's dangerous!" she protested, and he could hear the tears in her voice. He heard the unspoken words as clearly as if she had spoken them, _I don't want to lose both of you tonight. I might lose one, __and that will be hard enough, but both of you?_

"You aren't going to lose either of us," He said, just as if she had spoken out loud. "Cinnamon, please, just let me do this okay? That's my boy down there and he's cold and frightened and... he needs someone with him. Even if it's just me."

Cinnamon opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it and nodded.

"M-m-mom," Neil called out, "Y-y-you're s-suppose t-to s-sing the n-n-next part."

"Sorry, I'll be right there!" She stood up, walked over to Dean and quickly and sweetly kissed him on the lips. "Be careful," she whispered in his ear. "And take this." She opened up her back pack and pulled out something and handed it to him.

"What's this?" It was a flat square, plastic envelope of some type.

"It's an inflatable splint," she said. "It will help with the leg."

He nodded. She knelt back down to the edge. "No, Neil," she said. "We both sing the next part, remember?"

Dean climbed up on to the rim around the well. He had a rope harness on, two ropes tied to him as well, one around his waist, under the harness, one to the harness. He nodded to Roman and Jasper, realizing he was trusting these men with his life and the life of his boy. And realizing he couldn't have picked better men for the job. Then he started down, letting them lower him, but using his feet against the wall to walk down, as protection from his body hitting the walls.

Cinnamon and Neil were both singing the chorus of the song together_. _ Dean realized he knew the song, it was called, "Sure as I'm sittin' here." Ed, this hippie his mother used to date had sung this one on those days when he'd go to the park to sing for money. Dean used to tag along with him a lot, not just to get out of the house, but because he kind of liked Ed, harmless guy who actually seemed to give a crap about Dean. Ed had taught Dean the songs too, because sometimes Dean would sing along and when he did, people were much more inclined to throw money in Ed's guitar case. "Hey," he suggested as he started part climbing, part being lowered down. "I'll sing the next part!" The bottom seemed a long ways down and he wanted something to take his mind off of it, off of the idea that kept creeping into his mind of being lowered into a tomb.

"D-do y-you know it?" Neil asked.

"You betcha, I do," Dean said, and in his own raspy voice started to sing the next , he wasn't going to be asked to leave wrestling for a career in music any time soon, but he could carry a tune. And it didn't really matter, all this was supposed to be was a distraction, for Neil and his pain, for Cinnamon and her worry and for him and his fear. These walls were cold, and the further down he went, the colder it got. His feet were sliding along the rocky wall too, sliding in moss and slime and god knew what else. He could look up and see the outlines of Roman and Jasper and Cinnamon, looking down and watching him getting further and further away. There wasn't much he could do going down, Jasper and Roman were doing all the work, lowering him slowly, carefully as the three of them sang.

The further he went, the colder it got, the more damp it got, the slimier the walls seemed. And there was this muffled, scary, thickness to the air, as if it wasn't air, but a slightly breathable form of water. He didn't like it at all. He couldn't imagine being down here for an hour, never mind the twelve plus Neil had been down here. If the roles had been reversed, he thought Neil, Cinnamon, Roman and Jasper might have found a foaming lunatic or a dead man down here. But Neil was tough. Neil was like his mother, he had that steel running through him. He thought about the other women he had slept with, wondering if any of them would have made a better choice to be the mother of his kid and the answer was no. Neil got his looks, but he'd gotten so much more from his mother, and for that, Dean was grateful.

They sang the next verse, the three of them, together.

When they were done, the lowering stopped. "You're right above Neil," Roman said, "We're going to shift you over a little, and lower you until you're on the ground."

"Sure." He tried to look over at Neil, but all he could see was that leg, twisted unnaturally, but at least it didn't seem as if it was a compound fracture. He felt a jerk and then he was lowered again, and this time his feet were on marshy, muddy, ground. "I've landed!"

Roman and Jasper gave him some slack on the ropes, but held on. Dean moved the ropes aside and went over to Neil. "Hey, kid,"

Neil looked at him, and in the light from the lantern, Dean saw the pain and misery in those eyes. Dean had heard fear, pain, and unhappiness, but he now saw how much of a brave face the kid was putting on for all of them, that whatever his voice showed, it was _so_ much worse. He looked at Dean, and now that someone was here with him, his face crumbled and he said only one word, and it was an exclamation, a statement, and a question, all rolled up into five letters.

"Daddy."

"Yeah," Dean said, kneeling beside him. "It's your Dad."

_End of Part Seven_

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><p><strong>If this chapter got a little awkward, it's because I had to edit out some song lyrics. Yes, I know, I shouldn't have had them in there in the first place, but I've seen them used all over this site and I figured it wouldn't matter that I used lyrics from some song from the '70s. But, yes, I know, rules are rules so I removed them.<br>**

**Author's Notes: Yeah... does the fact that Cinnamon and Neil can carry a tune in a bucket make them Mary and Gary Stu? I know that's one of the huge no-nos for OC's is to be able to sing. But, hey, people can sing in this world. I can sing actually, mostly because my parents loved singing and they raised my sibs and I to sing like little birds. I had someone follow me around the other day at work and eventually ask me what song I was singing, because he remembered it from my voice, but couldn't remember the title. But, in Cinnamon and Neil's defense, I am not saying they have the voices of angels, or that anyone is going to put them on American Idol. They can carry a tune and sing without making people's ears bleed. With the right songs, they probably sound pretty good, but that doesn't make them fantastic. So, please forgive me, if I crossed the line here. I just know that when someone is in a situation like Neil was in, you want to keep them alert as you can and focused. Singing can be a good way to keep the brain working. Cinnamon would know that too, being a paramedic. And in this situation, they do not want Neil falling asleep if they can help it.**

**Special Thanks to: **

**Nancy:**** Yep, they found him. And now we know Dean would go down a well for his son. **

**Everyone else who reviewed? Thank you, I know I say it all the time, but I'll keep saying it, your encouragement is what gets this stuff written**

**If you're still reading this, please consider leaving a review. I've noticed another dip and I'm worried that I've somehow managed to ruin the story. I know I took a risk by having the "tragic accident" but I just thought it would be a better way to get Neil and Dean to communicate rather than have a long, drawn out story of"One step forward and two steps back." If I failed in this, and the story has become terrible, please let me know. The only way I'll improve is if I know the mistakes I'm making. :-(**

**Until Next Time**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**

**Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

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><p><strong>Run in the Night<br>**_Part Eight_

As was to be expected, getting Dean and Neil out of the well proved to be a lot more difficult than getting Dean down there. First was the matter of Neil's leg. Dean got the inflatable splint onto Neil's leg and inflated it, Cinnamon yelling down instructions. "Not too much," she said. "We don't want to cut off circulation."

"How much then, and how do I tell?" he called up.

"It's hard to tell exactly," she said. "Just don't over inflate it. There is supposed to be a safety valve, but I don't always trust them, sometimes they malfunction."

_The thing has a safety valve and she's worried? _"How about we hope for the best for now, and you can check it out when we're safely out of the fucking well?" he suggested, trying to keep his voice calm.

"How about you control your swearing around our son?" she shot back.

"How about I promise I'll never swear around him again, as soon as we're out of the _fucking_ _well?"_ He was trying to be cool, but the place was making him claustrophobic and this damp, water-pretending-to-be-air felt as if it were getting harder to breathe. He could keep it in check, but not if he had to argue with Cinnamon, too. Yes, she had been the one parent raising Neil, and he would always respect her for that, but right now, he was the parent that went down into the fucking well for the kid, and that had to mean something.

"I d-d-don't mind, Dad," Neil said, "I've s-s-sworn d-d-down here a-a-a lot"

"See?" Dean called up. "Our kid doesn't mind."

"Of course our kid doesn't mind," Cinnamon said. "He's a kid and you're his idol."

"C-can we j-j-just g-g-get me out of the f-f-fucking well?"

Neil muttered, soft enough so only Dean heard. He looked at the kid from over Neils leg in the inflatable cast and grinned. "We're working on it, trust me."

When the splint was set, a look and a sigh of relief escaped Neil. "Th-that f-f-feels b-b-better," he said, looking gratefully at Dean.

Dean nodded. "Now, let's get you out of here. _And me too,_ he thought but didn't say. _ I don't like it down here at all._ He hadn't even been down here ten minutes and the damp cold was sinking into his bones, acting as if it would never leave. He didn't want to think of how miserable Neil must be.

Meanwhile, Jasper had taken the extra rope length Cinnamon had been carrying and cut some pieces from it. "You're going to have to fashion a makeshift harness from these," he said. "My best advice? Have the kid face your chest, wrap his arms around your neck, and tie around the waist. Just make sure to secure him tight, we do _not_ want him falling. Can you handle that?"

Dean nodded, although part of him was terrified. What if he failed? No, he wouldn't think about that. Failure, as the saying went, was not an option. He turned to Neil. "This will probably hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, he admitted, "But I'm going to have to get you so you're facing me. I'll try to go gentle on your bad leg, but I've got to sit you on my lap, sort of, with you facing me. Then I need to tie you into the harness and around me. When we start going up, you need to keep your arms firmly around my neck. Do you understand? Can you do it? I know you're freezing, and the ropes I'll tie will do most of the work, but I still will need you to hold on tight.

Neil nodded. "I c-can do it if it means w-we l-leave this p-p-place," he said, and Dean could see it in his face, his bruised up little face, and hear it in his voice that he was drawing on a last vein of inner strength.

"Good boy." As gently as he could manage, Dean scooped him up, crouching as much as he could to let some of the kid's weight rest on his upper thighs. Neil's lower leg was broken, but he still proved to have some strength in his upper legs and thighs and he clamped them around Dean's waist. Dean was shocked at how cold his little body felt pressed into his and hoped that he was giving the kid some warmth. "Hang on a sec," He said, and moved back enough to unzip his hoodie, so the kid's body could press closer to the warmth. When that was done, he called up to Jasper, "Send down the rope!"

Jasper uncoiled the rope pieces he had cut and dropped them down the well. The first one landed with a soft thud on top of the two of them. "Hey!" Dean shouted, "Take it easy, my kid's been through enough!"

"Sorry!"

"You should be," Dean muttered. Neil was shivering violently now, his body reacting to the heat coming from Dean's. "Can you still hold on, little man?" Neil nodded and Dean did feel his arms and legs were still holding firm. Quickly, he threaded the rope around the both of them, putting it around his waist, around the makeshift harness and then under Neil's butt. It wasn't easy figuring out how to tie it securely without being able to see the ends of the rope, but he managed. He did this with several more pieces of rope, making sure that if one of the ropes failed, many others were there to take its place. When he was done, he stood up. "Okay, let's start.

"Okay," Roman said, calling down. "We're going to do most of the work, so you concentrate on holding on to Neil. Use your legs though, to keep your distance from the wall. I know you both want out of there really fast, but we're going to do this as slow as possible to make sure we aren't smacking the two of you into the walls. We don't like the idea of smashing Neil's bad leg into a wall. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Dean called, trying not to be disappointed at the plans for going slow. With every second he was down here, he was becoming more and claustrophobic, the air getting harder and harder to breathe. Knowing how much Neil needed him to keep it together was probably the only thing that kept Dean from losing his mind. _We'll get through it,_ he thought as he felt the tugging start and the two of them begin to rise. _As long as we're making progress, we'll get through_.

Dean wasn't sure if Roman and Jasper were being hyper serious about the whole "go slow" thing, or if time had managed to slow itself down into a crawl, but the trip up seemed to take forever, as if the two men above were moving him an inch at a time, then pausing to chat or something. He concentrated on keeping his arms around Neil and using his feet to keep them away from the wall. And he hoped Neil was getting warmer from the body heat he was sharing.

"You're getting closer, Baby," Cinnamon called down, trying to encourage them. "Hang on, you'll be out of there, soon."

"Not soon enough," Dean muttered and he felt Neil's arms wrap a little bit tighter around him. "You're awesome, Neil. You're handling this like a pro."

"Th-thanks," Neil stammered. "And y-y-you're s-s-so w-w-warm."

"That's my job," Dean said, kissing the top of the kid's filthy, dirty hair and not caring one little bit. "To rescue you when you fall down a well, to keep you warm when you can't."

When they were at the top, Cinnamon took hold of the rope Roman was holding. Jasper was holding the other rope that had them secured, so Dean wasn't worried. Besides, Cinnamon was pretty strong for a chick, she always had been. Once Cinnamon had the rope secured in her grip, Roman got down by the edge of the hole, reached out and grabbed Dean and Neil and pulled them out and onto the ground in one swift, sure, motion.

Just as they were safely on solid ground, Dean heard the wail of sirens, still in the distance, but getting closer.

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><p>By the time the rescue crew arrived, Jasper and Roman had cut the ropes off of Dean and Neil. Dean had moved behind Neil, so the kid was sitting with his back pressed into Dean's chest. Dean had his arms around him, trying to warm him up more with his body heat, while Cinnamon checked the inflatable splint and then started cleaning off the many abrasions and lacerations Neil had gotten from the fall. Night had begun creeping away with the start of day, and the sky was that cloudy gray that seemed to promise a dismal day.<p>

As far as Dean was concerned, if Neil was going to be okay, and he was pretty sure he would, this was the brightest day of his entire life.

"Hey Cinn," one of the rescue workers, a tall man with skin maybe even darker than Truth's, and dark eyes that even in the gray light, flashed brightly as he took in the scene. "Heard your boy was trapped in a well. Now I see you're working on him, what gives?" Though his words were a little on the stern side, he really didn't look all that unhappy to see the Neil out of the well.

Cinn looked up at him, shaking her head. "What _gives_, Dan, is that his father, the idiot over there, the one behind Neil, decided that_ you _idiots were taking too long and climbed down to get him."

Dan shook his head. "That was pretty dumb," he said, but you could tell there was no sting in the words. Dan had a pleasant voice, like he was used to do more laughing than yelling. "Don't you know it's dangerous climbing down wells."

"I'm not known for being brilliant," Dean muttered, "I'm known for being crazy."

"I-I'm g-glad h-he c-came d-d-down," Neil said, looking at Dan with a hint of defiance in his shaky voice. The shivering had started up again and was actually worse now that he was starting to get warm. "I-i-it s-s-sucked d-d-down there."

"Well, I'm glad this is a case of all's well that ends well," Dan said. "But in the future, Mr. Neil's Father, could you let us do our job? That's why you pay taxes."

"I don't live around here," Dean said, although part of him wondered if that was merely a technicality.

* * *

><p>It didn't take long to get Neil on the gurney, which the EMT's carried out like a stretcher, because wheeling it over the rough terrain would have been impossible. Cinnamon followed them to the ambulance, talking to him the whole time while holding his hand. Dean wanted to be there too, on the other side, holding his hand, but he knew two clinging parents would have been rough on the rescue crew and probably Neil himself. So, he hung behind, walking with Roman and Jasper.<p>

"Thanks for everything, guys," he said, knowing that his few stupid words didn't even begin to describe the gratitude he felt. If they hadn't helped him, no doubt Neil would still be in the well and he'd be losing his mind, screaming at rescue to get down there faster.

"It's fine, bro," Roman said. "You'd do the same for me if it were Leah."

"I still say you're a crazy motherfucker," Jasper said, cheerfully, "But, anything to help the kid. I'm very fond of him."

"I know," Dean said. "You're his Uncle Jasper. And I really appreciate that you- that you've been a-" he paused, reaching for the right words, "male role model? I guess that's what you'd call it, in his life. Because god knows I wasn't one. Didn't know about him for the first nine plus years and the few months I have? I've been doing nothing but screwing up."

"Yeah, well, you climbed down a well for him tonight," Jasper pointed out, "I think that'll go a long way in erasing some of the suckage you've been inflicting."

When they got to the ambulance, Dean expected Cinnamon to climb in and ride with them to the hospital. She was a paramedic after all, and even though she was no longer allowed to administer medical help to him now that they were there, she could at least supervise and make sure they were doing everything right, which Dean expected she would want to do. But to his surprise, when they were about to load him in, she stepped back and let go of his hand. "Do you want your dad to go with you in the ambulance?" she asked.

Dean cringed, waiting for the kid to shake his head and cry for his Mom to go along. _Don't take it personally,_ he told himself. _She's had over nine years of being the only parent, it's natural he'd want her._ But to his surprise, Neil nodded his head eagerly. "Please, Dad?" he asked, his voice small in the early dawn, but at least his teeth weren't chattering so badly that he couldn't talk without stuttering.

"Sure," Dean said, climbing into the ambulance, even though he hated hospitals and hated ambulances. "I'd love to go to the hospital with you."

* * *

><p>By the time they got to the hospital, Neil's teeth were no longer chattering at all and he no longer looked as much like a pale shadow of a child. They got him into the back right away, and started working on him, wanting to make sure any effects from the cold temperatures and mud he'd laid in for well over twelve hours were dealt with before setting his leg, least he went into shock.<p>

Dean sat with him the whole time. Unless the doctor's and nurses ordered him to leave his side, he held his hand, his large fingers curled around Neil's small ones. He told him dumb jokes, "What did the dementia patient say to his doctor?"

"I don't know,"

Dean shrugged. "I forget."

Neil stared at him for a few seconds, as if Dean was crazy, then started laughing. "That's the _stupidest _joke I've ever heard!" he said.

"Yeah, but you're laughing, aren't you?"

"Yeah, 'cause it's so stupid it's funny." Neil said, then grinned. "Why can't you trust atoms?"

"I don't know," Dean responded.

"Because they make up everything!"

Dean snorted. "Okay, that was as bad as mine."

"But mine was at least educational!" Neil pointed out. "Atoms do make up everything."

"Yeah, yeah, leave it to my son to tell the smart, stupid jokes," Dean said, ruffling his hair.

* * *

><p>When Cinnamon got there, she stayed with Neil, but she stayed back a little, letting Dean stay closest to him. The only time Dean wasn't within three feet of him was when they took him into X-ray. Even when they set the leg, they let Neil hold Dean's hand and when they set it, he squeezed Dean's hand so hard that Dean could feel the bones grinding together. He had a mixed feeling about this, because yeah, it really hurt. On the other hand, he was proud his kid was no wuss, because <em>it really hurt<em>.

Once the leg was set, they brought Neil up to a room in the children's ward, because they decided the best thing would be to keep him at least 24 hours for observation. They had given him a mild sedative and he was asleep before they got him into the hospital bed. They put him in a semi-private room, but told Cinnamon confidentially, that they would not put a roommate in here unless it was absolutely necessary.

"I guess there are some perks to being a paramedic after all," Dean said, grinning. He was starting to fall into that punch drunk state where everything just seemed amusing. He had often gone a lot longer than this without sleep, but never under the emotional strain he had been under last night.

"And, a professional wrestler," Cinnamon said. "They know who you are and they know that at this point, you really don't want to be recognized."

"Yeah." They were both sitting on plastic chairs that were extremely uncomfortable. The nurse told them that that they would bring a cot in soon enough that they could use. Even though Dean wanted to fall into that cot, he was going to let Cinnamon use it first. The woman needed sleep just as badly as he did. "Where are Roman and Jasper?" Dean asked, finally remembering them.

"They dropped me off and went back to our place," Cinnamon said. "Poor guys were both exhausted. I told them they could crash at the house. Roman promised me he'd be able to stay long enough to pick us up tomorrow and get us back home. Then he's heading back." She hesitated, then added, "If you want to, you can go back with him."

"Don't you need someone to help you take care of Neil?" Dean asked, part of him hoping she would say that yes, she did, and insist that he should be the one to do it.

Cinnamon bit her lower lip. "It would be nice to have someone to help, yes. But I do have friends. I know the Williams will want to help and there are other folks. Jasper doesn't live far, he'll help."

"We were making a connection," Dean said, his voice soft. "If I head back with Roman, will I lose ground?"

"No, I don't think so," Cinnamon said, her expression staying neutral. "You did a lot for him tonight...and he's calling you dad. I think that you'll find conversations on the phone with him are going to go easier..." her voice trailed off.

"I hear a 'but' in there," Dean said.

She smiled, but it wasn't one of her strong smiles. "You two have made a start, but this long distance isn't going to make it easy. I'm not saying it can't be done, it can. But it will take a whole lot longer than it would if you were a day to day part of his life."

He sighed. "Cinn, I can't give up wrestling. I finally made it to the top, I _can't_ give it up. Other wrestlers have kids and-"

"I'm not _asking_ you to give it up," Cinnamon said. "I would never do that. I'm not even _asking_ you to take time off. I'm _telling_ you that if you keep dealing with Neil, only through long distance contact, or the occasional half day or day visit, it will take the two of you a lot longer to develop a close father and son relationship. I'm not going to sugar coat it."

"Okay, so you're not _asking_, but you're _hoping_, aren't you?" He was tired, they both were tired and probably shouldn't be having this conversation, but there in itself was the point; if he left with Roman tomorrow, when would they have time for it?

"Dean, you're not going to pin this to me," Cinnamon said, the weariness showing in her voice. "What you did tonight for Neil was amazing and he and I can never find the words to express how much this means. And it shows me and Neil that you really do love him. Don't ever downplay what you did tonight. I never will and neither will Neil. But it was one heroic rescue. You swept in and saved the day, thank you. However, one day of being Superman doesn't make someone a father."

"How come Roman can be a long distance father and he's just awesome at it?" Dean grumbled.

"Because he's been there since his daughter was born," Cinnamon said. "He wasn't on this ridiculous schedule when she was born, he had some time with her, to bond with her before the WWE lifestyle started. You didn't have that," She raised her hand, silencing him when she saw he was going to interrupt. "And I know that's my fault, I have never denied that, but we agreed not to play the blame game."

"Seems like you are, just a little," Dean said, and then looked away from her.

Cinnamon sighed. "If I am, I'm sorry. Dean, I'm just telling you how it is. If you want Neil and you to have a good, father and son relationship, one that's strong and solid, you need to spend time with him. He needs to see that you're not perfect. That you may be the God of Wrestling, but outside the ring, you're a human being. That you put your pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else. And the only way to really see that is to be there to_ let him see that_. Now, I'm not saying the two of you can't eventually work it out, but it won't happen over night. Maybe it won't happen until Neil is a lot older. Maybe though, we can work things out so that on school breaks, Neil and I can join you on the road. There are ways around this, I'm not telling you that you have to take time off. I'm just saying that the fastest way to get you two completely comfortable around each other is to _be around each other._"

Dean looked at her, fixing his gaze on hers. "Cinnamon, do you think I can _be_ a good father? I mean, I know I'm Neil's father biologically, and nothing can change that. But it takes more than sperm donation to make a good father. You know my past is fucked up, you know I didn't grow up in a home that gave me any examples on how to be a decent parent. I'm a pretty good uncle to Leah and I like kids okay, but liking kids doesn't make someone a father. And I know that Neil thinks I'm a wrestling God, and yeah, I am. But that doesn't make anyone a good father. So, please, be 100% honest; do you think I can be a good father?"

She didn't hesitate. "I think, that if you give yourself a chance, you'll make a wonderful father. Not a perfect father, but no one can be that. But a really good father? Yeah, I think you can do that and then some."

Dean looked over at the bed, where Neil was sleeping, his small body covered with bruises and lacerations, his leg in a cast, looking so tiny and so vulnerable. Then he thought about all the times wrestling when he won championships. All the times when people cheered for him. He loved it. He could never stop loving it. Maybe he didn't come from a long line of wrestlers, maybe he was a first generation wrestler, but it was in his blood just as much as it was in Randy Orton's, maybe even more so, because he'd developed and nurtured it himself. Nothing had ever felt better to him in his life than having the crowd cheering for him, hearing the stomping of feet, the clapping of hands, his name being said as a chant, not by dozens of people but thousands, tens of thousands of people. It was the best feeling in the world and he would never imagine anything could sound more wonderful, until tonight.

When Neil called him "Daddy."

He rose from the chair. "I've got to get some coffee or something. I'll be back."

Cinnamon nodded.

He headed for the door, then stopped, "Do you want some too?" he asked.

"That would be nice," she said. And he saw the dark ringed circles under her eyes and wished he'd said he was going to go get coffee for the both of them, right from the start.

* * *

><p>After talking to a nurse at the desk, he was told that the hospital had a real coffee shop in the lobby, that served something other than horrible hospital coffee. As he headed there, he thought in his mind about taking time off. Could he get the time? Probably. Yes, Triple H and the Powers that Be would not be happy, but his contract did have contingency plans and clauses for family emergencies. There might be some fussing and fuming, but he would get the time off. If Punk could walk out and never come back, he could certainly take time off and come back.<p>

_But what price do I pay? _

Well, he'd lose money, that's for sure. If he was gone for more than a couple months, his merchandise sales were likely to take a considerable dip, which would suck. Also, he wouldn't get PPV bonuses. But, money was...well, money. He liked it, but his lifestyle was pretty low key for a celebrity, so he had managed to save quite a bit.

Then there was status. The powers that be were always hinting to him that he was right on the edge of something huge and his momentum was building. But he also knew that wasn't a given. He didn't have the stereotypical "look" the WWE seemed to expect from their top men. Add to that, the fickle IWC that seemed to turn love into hate the moment you were near the top. Disappearing for awhile, might actually be a good thing in that department, because they could all cheer about how glad they were that he was gone, and then forget about him, forget about the hate, and be happy when he came back, until the hate started again. But still, the odds were good that the WWE and the powers that be might consider his leaving for awhile, for something they would consider as lame as spending time getting to know his son and reconnect with his old girlfriend (because let's be honest, he did want to reconnect with Cinnamon on a bit more than a sexual level) a slap to them and "reward" him by making him the company's crazy jobber.

_So, what do I do?_ he pondered as he thumped down the stairs, deciding that he was likely not to go to the gym today, so he might as well take the stairs. _If I take time off, I risk the job. If I don't take time off, I risk years of being someone my kid barely knows. Sure, he might be less nervous around me now, but being relaxed around someone and knowing someone are two different things._

_So, what's the worst thing that could happen? _ he asked himself. Well, he supposed the worst that could happen was that he could be "let go" from his contract. That wasn't impossible. Pay him out what they owed him, everyone shake hands, he'd move to the alumni page and WWE would release a statement wishing him the best of luck with his future endeavors. Blah blah blah. Then what?

Well, he sure as fuck wouldn't be no one. He could walk into ROH and say, "Hi, would you like me to come back?" and they'd probably have a contract drawn up so fast his head would spin. TNA was a possibility too. He certainly would not be reduced to being an unemployed wrestler hanging out in the bar. Even if he "retired" he could still wrestle, still get the thrill. He could go to WVW, they'd shit themselves blind and stick it to the wall if he said, "hey, I'd like to wrestle for you." He'd be working a lot less hours, that's for sure.

_And never make it to the top. Never hold the strap that says WWE World Heavyweight Champion. To know for the rest of my life that **maybe** I could have gotten there, but never know for sure. That I bailed before I could do it. Is it worth it, Dean? Can you live with it? _

He was in the lobby and he saw the coffee shop. The place had just opened and it was quiet. But he walked passed it and headed out the door. He walked a few feet away from the entrance to where there was a bench and sat down. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and stared at it. He knew he had to call Triple H. He knew Hunter was owed a phone call to let him know how things were going that the kid was okay, so on and so forth. Sure, Roman had probably filled him in, but he had to admit, they'd been pretty good to him, arranging for him to get out here as quickly as he did, doing the SAGD to get him off stage faster when in truth, it might have given him an extra half hour at most. They had the right to know what was going on from Dean himself, no matter what he decided to do about coming back. But he still didn't know. Did he go back with Roman? Take some time off? Try to split the difference and maybe only take one week off, then hurry back?

Sighing, he brought up the number and hit the call button.

_End of Part Eight_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Special Thanks to:<strong>

**Nancy:**** Yep, you nailed it. Neil recognized that Dean really is his Daddy. Because there was no real strong reason to go into the well. Rescue is coming, most people would say that the smart thing to do would be to wait for the professionals to handle this. But Dean's mind was on, "This is my child, he has been down in that damned well too long, I am going down there to get him, and woe be anyone who tells me no." And thank you for not thinking the accident was too sensational and ruined the story. I just figured that if I left it to conversation, I'd be writing nothing but boring dialog for hours and hours and even then, it would be some dance of one step forward and two steps back. As I pointed out in this chapter, this doesn't mean it'll be smooth sailing from here out, but I think Neil realizes that his Dad loves him. And Dean realizes he is a father. And Cinnamon is telling him he's going to be a good one if he gives himself a chance. **

**Guest:**** Well, the next chapter is here!**

**Best Intentions:**** Maybe you're right. ****Anything else I say will just prove your point to you, so I'll shut up now.**

**Author's Notes:**** There will be one more part to this, that I hope to be posting tomorrow, then the story is done. Odds are good this is the end of the saga. I thought about doing a prequel, ****and I have ideas to continue this, but... well, that seems extremely unlikely now. **

**Until the conclusion.**

**Willow.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers that portray them. I have no legal rights to them at all. This story is a tribute only and not intended to infringe on any copyrights.**

**Original characters mentioned here are creations from my own head only and any resemblance to any real people, living or dead is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Run in the Night<br>**_Epilogue_

"Mom?" Neil asked, for probably the dozenth time in as many minutes. "When are they going to _get_ here?"

"When they get here," came the reply from the kitchen, the same reply he'd been getting since he started asking that question.

It was Thanksgiving and the tiny ranch house was filled to the brim with the smells of dinner. In the kitchen, the small table had been stretched out to the fullest, because there were going to be _nine_ people sitting at it. There was a table cloth on it, something that to Neil just screamed, "Holiday!" and the good dishes. Even cloth napkins, in a rust color that reminded him of falling leaves. And there was a flowered centerpiece, with real flowers that would die and everything, unlike the ones with the silk flowers that mom usually kept on the table. His Mom had been fretting all week about not having a dining room, which Neil thought privately was a little dumb. It wasn't like worrying would make a dining room magically appear, so she might as well just not care about it. Besides, not having a dining room meant they were closer to the source of the food and with all these people, that might mean a lot less running around when serving dishes were empty.

Neil wasn't in the kitchen though, he was sitting on the far end of one of the sofas, keeping an eye out the window, waiting for the arrival of the rest of the guests. There was plenty of time before dinner would be ready, but he wanted them to _get_ here. His crutches were nearby, stupid things, but the new cast the doctor put on him this week was kind of awesome, for a cast. It was smaller, starting just below the knee, so he could actually bend his knee now, something he had missed really badly. There was also a boot like thing that slipped over the foot that made it so he could almost walk on it without the stupid crutches. In fact, he really _could_ walk on it for short distances without crutches, but he'd better not let his mother see him doing it, or there would be hell to pay. "Not until your physical therapist tells me it's okay!" was becoming a common battle cry in the house and one he didn't like, although physical therapy itself wasn't so bad.

Other than that though, the fall down the well was becoming a distant memory. His cuts and scrapes had healed up, along with the two broken fingers, that weren't even discovered until the next day, when complained of the pain. They'd been splinted for a few weeks, which had really sucked, he couldn't even play video games. He had also been a minor celebrity in the community for a bit, apparently falling down a well was a way to fame, which he thought was kind of dumb. He hadn't done anything awesome, he'd actually done something pretty stupid. His Mountaineers baseball cap had flown off his head in the wind and when he was chasing after it, he'd fallen down the well. If that wasn't stupid, he didn't know what was, and the attention it garnered, even though it was favorable, made him a little nervous. He was glad when it all quieted down. There was plenty of time for fame when he became a professional wrestler, like his dad.

"Man, I wish they'd get here," Neil grumbled, which was something else he'd said a lot today, too.

"Don't worry kid," someone said, coming out of the kitchen, a beer in his hand. "If they don't show up, it just means more food for us."

Neil looked up and frowned. "That's not nice, Uncle Jasper!" he scolded, not too meanly, but stern enough that his uncle knew he didn't appreciate his joke. They had to show up, they just _had_ to.

"Eh, I don't have to be nice," Jasper said, sitting on the sofa. "I'm _starving_."

"You should have had breakfast!" Cinnamon did her own scolding from around the corner in the kitchen.

"Breakfast is for wussies!" Jasper declared. "I'm saving my appetite for turkey!"

Neil saw the unfamiliar SUV driving up the street and tried not to get his hopes up. Strange cars had been driving into the neighborhood all day. But, this one did seem to be slowing down near the house, a good sign, then even better, it pull into the driveway. "_They're here!_" he shouted, forgetting his "indoor voice" in his excitement. "_They're here!"_ he yelled again, even though that was dumb, but it was okay, because he was excited. He fumbled for his crutches, rising to his feet as he watched the doors to the car open and the people coming out.

He and Uncle Jasper answered the door when the bell rang and almost immediately the living room became too full of people as the guests came inside, but it was a good full, not a claustrophobic full. (Claustrophobic was an awesome word, his English teachers loved it when he used words like that in his essays) His mom came out from the kitchen, looking a little bit anxious, but smiling. "Welcome!"

"Thank you so much for inviting us," a tall woman who Neil thought might be almost as pretty as his mom. Almost. Although the way Uncle Jasper was staring her her, Neil bet he thought she might even be prettier than his mom, the idiot. "I've been dying to meet you!"

The tall, dark haired man next to her smiled. "Jessica, this is Cinnamon, Cinnamon, this is Jessica, my fiance. And this-" he motioned to the young girl holding his hand, half hiding behind her father. "Is our daughter, Leah."

"And this is my son, Neil," Cinnamon said, ruffling his hair.

"Nice to meet you," Neil said, then grinned. "Hey Uncle Roman."

"Hey, Neil," Roman said. "You're looking better than you did the last time I saw you."

"Yeah, well, I've been staying away from wells, that helps a lot," Neil said, which made Uncle Roman laugh and tell Neil he was a lot like his dad, which made Neil look around a bit. Where was his Dad? He should be here, right?

"Can I sign your cast?" Leah suddenly blurted out. "I've never signed one before."

Neil shrugged. "Sure, I'll get my markers." A lot of people had signed his first cast. Secretly, he was hoping to get his Uncle Roman and Uncle Seth's signature, but he had enough room with this new one for Leah to sign too.

Cinnamon and Jessica, having exchanged greetings, headed to the kitchen talking as if they had known each other all their lives. Neil looked around for his markers. usually they were close by. "Neil," Roman asked. "Where's your Dad?"

"I'm right here," Dean said, his voice coming from the kitchen. "Do you believe that woman has me peeling potatoes?" He came around the corner and into the living room, grinning brightly. "Good to see you," he said, giving Roman a hug.

"Uncle Dean!" Leah exclaimed, rushing to hug him too. Dean scooped her up into a hug that a couple months ago would have made Neil really jealous, but he'd gotten a lot of hugs from his dad lately, and didn't resent him sharing a few with other people.

"Hey!" Seth called out, coming over. "You're looking good! Roman and I were hoping all this domestic life hadn't made you soft."

"Nope," Dean said, putting Leah down and giving Seth a hug. "I'm still running every day, and there is a gym in town I use. I'm not letting myself go."

"You look ring fit and ready," Roman observed. "You could go on Raw this coming Monday."

"Yeah," Dean said with a smirk, "Too bad I'm not going back until January. Nice try, though."

Roman snapped his fingers. "Well, you can't blame a guy."

* * *

><p>There was a lot of chatter and joking and Neil got to meet Uncle Seth's girlfriend, Aunt Kayla who was also pretty, and seemed really nice too, which surprised him, because for some reason, he thought Uncle Seth's girlfriend would be one of those cold, stuck up women. He didn't know why he thought that, he just did, but she had a really warm laugh that Neil liked a lot. She ended up in the kitchen, with his Mom and Jessica, helping with Thanksgiving dinner, which was okay though, because with them in the kitchen, his Dad stayed in the living room with his uncles, watching football, which Uncle Roman <em>really<em> got into, like even though he was a professional wrestler, and almost as awesome as Dad, he got into watching football like Neil got into watching wrestling. Neil didn't really mind, football wasn't so bad to watch. He got to sit between his Dad and Uncle Jasper, which was great. Neil also got to drink root beer, something his mother didn't let him have very often, so that was even better. He and Leah split a can between the two of them, but his mother put it in two frosted mugs, with a lot of ice in them, so it was almost like having a whole can to himself.

Leah chugged a lot of hers and then let out a burp so loud that it seemed to bounce off the walls, so for a moment, it sounded like four people were burping in unison. For a moment, everyone forgot about football and stared at her. She turned really red. "Oops! 'Scuse me!" she said, her voice almost a squeak, "I'm sorry." She was sitting in her father's lap and she buried her face in his shirt as if she wanted to disappear.

Neil shook his head. "Don't be sorry!" he exclaimed. "That was _awesome!"_ It was, too. Cory always thought his burps were loud, but Leah's had his all beat.

Everyone laughed at this, but it was good laughing, not mean laughing. And Leah twisted her head so she could see Neil and offered a watery smile. "Do you really think so?"

He nodded. "That was a champion belch. That was like a nine, maybe even a ten!"

"Really?" She looked up at her dad. "Was it good?"

"Yeah," Roman said, kissing the top of her head and trying not to laugh. "But you might not want to brag to your mother about it, she probably won't think it's very awesome."

"I think it was amazing," Dean said, reaching over and tugging one of her pigtails.

She stopped hiding in her Dad's shirt and grinned to Neil. "I think _you're_ awesome!" she declared, pointing at him.

Okay, so she was a girl, but Sam was a girl and he and Sam were friends. Leah was pretty young though, six while he was nine, going on ten, but that was okay too. Leah seemed all right, which was good because now they were cousins. Cousins! Just think, last year at this time it was him and his mother and Uncle Jasper and that was it at Thanksgiving. Now he had _three_ uncles, _two_ aunts, a cousin, and a dad. He even had _more_ family, because Uncle Roman was trying to talk Dad and Mom to going to Florida for Christmas, because Roman's parents wanted to meet him and his mom. And according to his dad, Uncle Roman's parents looked at his Dad as like a sur- _surrogate_(Another good word, his English teacher would be thrilled if she could read his thoughts) son, so that meant he even had another set of grandparents! He was lucky enough to have the Williams's next door, but some kids had two sets of grandparents, and now he did too!

Neil looked around and realized that his father had left the room a few minutes ago, and he hadn't even noticed he'd been so lost in his own thoughts. _He's cutting the turkey, I'll bet,_ he thought, and then he started hearing the voices coming from the kitchen.

"You're supposed to cut horizontal here, along the bone, then you cut vertical in very thin slices," his mother explained.

"Woman, you said _I _could carve the turkey!" his dad said in that stern bossy voice he used, that Neil was starting to understand wasn't serious, it was his dad's way of showing false bravado (wow, bravado, another great word! Maybe English wasn't so bad after all, teaching him all these better words) when he wasn't sure about something. Back before he fell down the well, Neil would have thought that his dad was really mad at his mom for telling him how to carve a turkey, but Neil knew a lot more about his dad now and knew that his dad had trouble looking as if he needed help. His dad wanted to appear like he never needed help. Neil could understand that, because he felt that way too especially with the cast. People were always running to grab his crutches for him when he was sitting down like he was helpless and stupid, when really, he could get them himself. Or else they were opening doors, or grabbing things of his to carry. He wasn't a baby or an invalid (another great word) he just had a broken leg.

"I can carve if you need an expert," Uncle Roman called into the kitchen, grinning.

"I can handle it!" Dean called back.

"I can help," Uncle Seth called out, giving a sly little nod to Roman, "I've carved a few turkeys myself."

"Me too," Uncle Jasper chimed in. "We can do it."

"I don't need help from the three stooges!" Dean snapped, but there was a hint of amusement in his snapping. "You just sit there and wait until we call you for dinner!"

"Can I help?" Neil called, trying not to giggle.

"Yeah," Roman said, "Can your kid with the cast and on crutches help you carve the turkey? Bet he's better than you!"

"My own son turned against me!" Dean said in a mock wailing voice. "You just stay in the living room until we call you. Wait until you see this turkey. You're going to think I took special turkey carving lessons when you see how beautiful this bird looks when I'm done!"

* * *

><p>His dad did manage to get the turkey carved, and it didn't look that much different from when his mom or Uncle Jasper carved, so Neil shouldn't have worried. They all sat down at the table, which took up so much of the kitchen, so the kitchen was suddenly really tiny, but it didn't feel bad tiny, it felt good tiny. It felt... cozy. Yeah, that was the right word. Warm kitchen, lots of good food, good smells, and people who all loved each other gathered around. <em>So this is what it's like to have a big extended family<em>, Neil thought, and he found he liked it, he liked it just fine.

Then they all held hands and his mom said that everyone should take turns telling the others what they were thankful for, and Neil realized there was one downfall to a big family, and that is that there were now an awful lot of people who had to say things to be grateful for, but that was one small downfall and didn't cloud over the good of having this big family.

Mom started and she said she was thankful for everyone being there to help celebrate Thanksgiving, and she was very thankful that Neil was all right and getting better every day. And that his Dad was a part of their lives and always would be. Then Aunt Jessica said she was thankful for family, friends and all such. Uncle Roman said he was thankful for the turkey, that's it, just the turkey, so Aunt Jessica kicked him under the table, and she must have done it pretty hard because Uncle Roman yelped a little bit. Then he said he was also thankful for the sweet potatoes and stuffing. But, then he got serious and said he was thankful for his family, his career, that they were all together and all of that stuff. Leah said she was most thankful that she could have Thanksgiving with both her father and Uncle Dean, then she seemed to remember that might be a little mean, so she added, "And Uncle Seth," but it was obvious, it was an afterthought.

Uncle Jasper said he was thankful for beer and cats, which was odd because Neil was pretty sure Uncle Jasper didn't have a cat. Also, for some reason, none of his aunts or his mother seemed to like the idea of him being thankful for cats, because they all glared at him, which made him go, "What? I said _cats!"_ As if cats really meant something else. He also added, "And God Bless Wrestling!" which Neil could completely agree with.

Uncle Seth was thankful for his girlfriend (which Neil could understand, she sure was pretty) and for being there with all of them, and that he still had his "brothers." Aunt Kayla was thankful for Seth and that they were all together and that everyone was healthy and doing well.

Then it was his turn, and he had so much he wanted to say, but he was so afraid it would sound stupid and mushy, but his mom always told him on Thanksgiving, it was okay to be a little mushy, so he took a deep breath. "I'm thankful that I've got two new uncles and two new aunts, and a cousin who seems pretty cool for a little girl. I'm thankful for my mom, even if she worries too much about me. I'm thankful for this food, except for the butternut squash, because I really don't like butternut squash, but I'll eat a few bites to be polite. I'm thankful that my leg is healing and that I have this shorter cast. And I'm thankful that...I'm grateful that..." and he had to pause for a moment, and take another deep breath, because his eyes were suddenly stinging as if he might cry or something. But he got himself together and said, "I'm grateful that I have a dad who li-" No, that wasn't right, he needed to be honest here. "Who _loves_ me enough to climb down a well after me, even if it was pretty stupid that I fell in the well in the first place."

Then it was his Dad's turn, but his dad was looking at him, and part of Neil wondered if his dad's eyes were stinging too, because he sniffed really hard. Then Dean tried to say that everyone had pretty much thanked everything around, so there was no point in going through it again, but Mom just gave him that look she could give, and he finally said, "Okay, okay. I'm thankful for the food like this expertly carved turkey that looks like a professional did it. I'm thankful we could all be here together, because god knows it's a bi,- uh, I mean, _pain_ to coordinate schedules when you worked for the WWE. I'm thankful that Cinnamon and I are in each others lives again, because I didn't realize until we were together again that I really missed her. I'm thankful that my son is okay, that his leg will be just fine. But mostly, I'm thankful that I _have_ a son. I never thought I wanted kids, but now that I've gotten to know him and love him, I can't imagine life without him. I don't even _want_ to imagine life without him."

Now Neil's eyes _really_ began to sting and he thought he might cry, but he had a feeling his dad might be feeling the same way. And when he looked over at Mom, she was looking at both of them with such a look of love that it made him feel warm, even if it was a bit sappy.

Then the sharing of thanks was over and the food was being passed around, so much food, and it was all delicious (except for the butternut squash) and the kitchen was such a warm and happy place. And Neil realized this was the best Thanksgiving he'd ever had. He looked over at his dad, and thought that maybe, this was the best Thanksgiving his dad ever had too. And that was neat, because even though Neil hadn't known him as long as like, Leah knew her dad, they at least would share this, that they both had their best Thanksgiving (so far) together.

The End.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>** Yeah, it took near disaster, but finally Neil and Dean have found their way to each other. ****Will things be a barrel of fuzzy happy from here on out? Of course not, that's not realistic. But I think all three of them, Neil, Dean and Cinnamon, are on their way to being a real family. **

**Special Thanks Time:**

**Nancy:**** Yeah, it's one of those bitter sweet things, isn't it? It's easy to think that now that the crisis is past, everything will be just fine, but it doesn't work like that. It takes work to be a parent, but I think Dean realizes that. Cinnamon doesn't want to take his dream away either, but she's not going to sugar coat things. And now, of course, we know that Dean made a choice. he took some serious time off to get to know his son and Cinnamon. He's planning on going back in January, after the Holidays. I'm sure there are times when he's scared and wonders if he did the right thing, but I'm sure there are other times when he thinks about calling up and asking if he can get released from his contract. **

**I would like to do more with Cinnamon, Neil and Dean, and I know there are some people who really would like to see me continue, but there are others who don't. And that's all I'm going to say. I might continue, I'll never say never, but if I'm going to stop writing wrestling fanfiction, this is probably a good place to stop. I've pretty much resolved everything, or the major things, so I'm not leaving anyone hanging. I've written ten stories all together, not bad for the short time I've been here and I don't want to outstay my welcome.**

**To Everyone Else****: To all of you who read this story, and especially to all of you who took the time to review, thank you so much. It's been a pretty great trip and I'm glad we could take it together. And if you don't hear from me again, thank you, and best of luck to all of you. **

**And for those of you who live in the USA? Happy Thanksgiving and I hope that you, like Neil, Cinnamon, and the version of Dean that lives in this story, have many reasons to be thankful. **

**Willow Edmond**

**11/26/14**


End file.
